neo111

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I have 3 stories published in one collection on the site.
My stories have been read 4461 times

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George Rolph

My collections

Tiny Tales And Big Ideas

My stories

The Love Letter

By neo111 on Sat, 18 Feb 2006

"Sometimes, in the morning, I imagine you are here my darling. I walk to the window and look down at the garden. As I watch the bees gathering pollen, or the birds feeding at their bird table, I imagine you walking there as you always do. I can almost see your footprints in the grass. It is so real that I cry when I remember your beauty." John reached for his tea and drank deep. One of the cafe staff appeared at his side. "Would you like something to eat?" she asked. John looked up her uncomprehendingly. "Pardon?" he said. The woman looked at him, suddenly embarrassed. "Oh, I'm sorry," she muttered and quickly vanished behind the counter. Only then did John realise he was crying. He stood quickly and left the cafe, dabbing at his eyes with his handkerchief.
Love
Story
Certificate PG

Old Heroes Never Die

By neo111 on Sat, 18 Feb 2006

Carter checked the small clock on the instrument panel. It read 6:25. Was that morning or evening? He thought. His compass told him he was heading west. The glare of the sun in his rear view mirror made him realise it was morning and the sun was rising quickly. "Carter, watch it!" A strange sound was coming from behind him. A deep chattering sound. Almost like a staccato thumping. Before his mind caught up with what the sound meant, he felt his aircraft shudder and jerk beneath him. Something was hitting it. He looked in the direction of the starboard wing. Holes were appearing in the fabric. His eyes flew to the tiny mirror above him. The glass of the mirror was filled with the shape of another aircraft Silhouetted against the sun. Flame was spitting intermittently from its nose.
Other Fiction
Story
Certificate PG

BUTTERCUP

By neo111 on Sat, 18 Feb 2006

"Don't you want to get a place of your own and a job." I asked him. He stopped suddenly and sat down. I joined him on the grass. "If I did. I would miss all this." He said. Pulling at his filthy jacket. The sarcasm cutting me like a knife. His tone softened. As if he had relented. "I don't fit." He said, matter of factly. "This world was built by people like you for people like you. I don't see the world the way you do." He paused to pick a buttercup out of the grass. For a while he gazed down at the small, bright yellow flower. Twirling it in his fingers. The light reflecting from it casting a yellow shadow on the dirty skin of his hands. "You see this buttercup?" He asked.
Spiritual
Story
Certificate 15