Des O'Neill: Short Stories. | Book series
Des O'Neill: Short Stories.
Phone: +61 407 668 856
Reviews
to load big map
22.01.2022 I found another writers group to join. It is in Ravenshoe. The focus is on off the cuff, quick story telling. Subjects to write about are presented to us and a given time. The first subject, or starting line; "I looked down and saw," ********************************* I looked down and saw my new camera laying idle.... Bird photography can be a challenge at the best of times, and is high on my list of pleasures, and a great way to run in the camera. "Come on, lets go to Mt Hypipamee," my fellow bird enthusiast beckoned me. "We don't usually find much there, but okay, there will be no difference there than anywhere else lately. I am sure all the birds have gone on holidays somewhere, perhaps interstate." So we made our way to the old crater area, down the highway, away from Hallorans Hill and Tinaroo. The car park of the old Volcano area was quiet, deserted, which was ideal, no noisy tourists to frighten birds away. "Too quiet," I said dejectedly. "Be patient and listen." We walked to the bridge, where the meandering stream lazily trickled it way beneath, now a more langued flow than the most recent, from heavy rains. Looking outthrough the trees, no movement came from branches or leaves, no bird song or chatter. Up in the canopy, no disturbance. We waited in silence, the mobile being a great diversion of interest, as it now consumed my attention. Then,looking down along the stream, a movement in the distance, something was coming toward us. At first nothing could be seen. Then as we peered down more closely, there it was, in all its bold coloured yellow and white striped plumage. The Golden Whistler. See more
19.01.2022 It was not so much the basking sun he felt, as he stood there with his Stop/Go sign. It was the impatient glare of drivers, needling his mind, that radiated the heat within him, as he dared to pause their journey on this section of tourist road. A section that had to be repaired fast, and finished today. His CB radio came to life.Okay Dave, let em through. Fifteen minutes only, then stop them, right. How are you holding up, first day is always hard, doesn't get any bet...Continue reading
17.01.2022 Homework Ravenshoe Writers Club. Inside the Coat Pocket. Des O’Neill. Jack Frost was his name and even that was doubtful. But we all knew him as Ink, the name he preferred. He was only in my life for a short while, fortunately for me. In my case less time the better. I served a three year stretch reduced by two for good behaviour, and a deal. Ink; he was a lifer, never to be released, and as he had confided to me, that...Continue reading
05.01.2022 Title for story; Black shadows lurked beneath the trees. "Hello, my name is Myrtle, I think, its not used much any more, my name," the dithering old lady said to no-one in particular, "as I sit in this nursing home, I began remembering about my most favourite tree, well there were lots of them really, over the years, and in different places, oh dear, now which one was I thinking of now?" Shadows of time that lurk in our past, they sit there, sometimes just below the su...rface, most times buried deep within. Then an event will cause you to delve into that depth. "Oh yes, that beautiful tree in the paddock, all us children played under it at one stage or the other. Yes, those boys," a chuckle to herself, "they used that tree as a pirate ship. Johnny and Tom Landers, that's right, God bless 'em. They made a rope ladder and climbed up high, they imagined themselves as the most feared pirates ever. All us kids joined in, when we could and those not scared of climbing. We even had buried treasures; fifteen paces to the light pole, three steps to the left. I wonder if my halfpenny I buried is still there?" Everyone should have a special tree where life events occurred. "Now which tree was that?" brushing a tear from her eye as she sipped her cup of tea, "the tree where he carved a heart with my initials and his, ha, that Jack," a smile from youth made her face more beautiful than any kind of make-up, "he took me to the tree and showed what he did, I went mad at him for stabbing the poor tree and cutting it, then he just laughed at me," her eyes smiled with tears now, "he took me in his arms and said, 'Mrytle my love, if I go fight in that war or not, I want you for my wife, I love you.' well! of course I said yes." Most of our trees from those early days survived any onslaught of blasting by war bombs. Many of our men and woman did not. "I wonder if our tree is still there, they seem to just get rid of trees to make space willy-nilly these days, its been a long time since I have been able to go and see it. That blasted war, took my Jack away from me, that tree he stabbed then, lived, but he didn't." "Oh dearie me, now I am worried that I am taking up space. I heard some men talking outside my window. They were nicely dressed with ties even. They said something about making room, getting rid of the old thing. It was under the grand tree in the carpark, where we all like to sit and just natter about silly little things. I distinctly heard them say, 'She will have to go, too old, and we need that space,' so it must be me, I am the oldest one here." See more
03.01.2022 The Timid water drop; DRIP. 1 There was a froth of excitement as the water drops took up any position they could find for their big jump. Another water fall to conquer. The precipice was brimming as drops of water swirled and danced, waiting their turn to go over the edge. All but one. Drip, a timid water drop who tried desperately to hang back, away from the edge....Continue reading
