Written by Wim Beunderman, posted on friday 11 may 2018
Click here to read the series from the beginning!
Part 4 in the Helena Series
After enjoying the view at the bayou, Helena and Marlon walked back to the gardens of the grand old house. There they stood beside Grandma’s oak again. Out of reverence for the wise old tree, they hesitated to lay their hands on its sturdy, grooved bark. Instead, they stood there for a while holding hands. In doing so, they soon noticed how powerful the oak was even at a distance. It filled them with a sense of calm.
Written by Wim Beunderman, posted on thursday 3 may 2018
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Episode 22
“I’ll tell you what, let’s go outside and get some fresh air,” Jenny suggested.
Deborah took a sip of wine and nodded.
“Yeah, good idea, sis. I could do with a walk.”
On hearing Deborah say the magic word ‘walk’, Dougie leapt up out of his basket and began running circles in the living room while wagging his tail with enthusiasm. The two sisters burst out laughing.
“Go on, fetch your leash!” Deborah cried out to her faithful little dog.
Dougie needed little encouragement and was back within seconds. Deborah attached the leash. The three of them then left the house, after Jenny had made sure all the doors were locked.
Written by Wim Beunderman, posted on saturday 7 april 2018
Click here to read the series from the beginning!
Part 3 in the Helena Series
“Wasn’t that wonderful?” Helena asked, referring to the flash of light across the sky they had just witnessed.
“Yes,” Marlon answered with a nod, “and I reckon the light in the bayou will be so too. Shall we carry on walking?”
“Yeah, let’s.”
The two eleven-year-olds turned to the dirt track and headed towards the bayou.
Written by Wim Beunderman, posted on saturday 24 march 2018
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Episode 19
Remembering this part of the story hit Giuseppe hard. Once again, he recognized the allegory that the story formed with his own real-life love story. As tears streamed down his face, he swallowed to clear the lump in his throat and continued to recollect Bee’s story.
Written by Wim Beunderman, posted on tuesday 13 february 2018
Valentine’s Day Story
Longingly, Rhiannon looked over her shoulder in the direction of the village. When she failed to catch a glimpse of her beloved Dewydd on the treeless hillside, she let her head hang and solemnly observed her tears blending with the raindrops on her face and falling on to her muddied sheepskin boots. She swallowed her pride, wiped her emerald eyes and her nose clean with her woollen coat sleeve, and tried to force the painful event that had taken place only half an hour ago to the back of her mind.
