Die Prys van Vergifnis Deel 3

Die Prys van Vergifnis

Welkom by my storie Die Prys van Vergifnis, my eerste reeks verhaal in Afrikaans op my blog. Hierdie is deel 3. Vind Deel 1 hier. en Vind Deel 2 hier. . Dit is die einde van my storie. Gaan Lesley die regte ding doen en die tower kuur vir vergifnis los of gaan sy die donker pad kies. Lees gerus en vind uit. Ek hoop julle geniet dit. Lekker lees.

(3)

Sy stap uit die badkamer en merk op dat die sit-en-slaap area nou anderste lyk. Die bruin tafel is oortrek met ‘n wit doek. Die Tarot kaarte is gebêre maar die groot skulp met kristalle is nog op die tafel. Daar is ‘n wierook-houer gekerf uit hout in die vorm van ‘n olifant en 3 stokkies wierook wat brand daarin. Weer ruik sy magnolia en laventel en ‘n ander krui wat brand, miskien sandalwood…of salie. ‘n Silwer mes lê op die tafel langs ‘n wit blaker met ‘n wit kers. Dita sit aan die een kant van die tafel.

Die Prys Van Vergifnis Deel 2

Die Prys Van Vergifnis

Welkom by my storie Die Prys van Vergifnis, my eerste reeks verhaal in Afrikaans op my blog. Hierdie is deel 2. Vind Deel 1 hier. Neem kennis dat my karakter Dita, nie Afrikaans is nie, dus het ek haar sin ordes en taal aangepas om by haar karakter te pas. Ek hoop julle geniet dit. Lekker lees.

Die Prys van Vergifnis deur Allen Wolfie Simpson

(2)

“Een oomblik”, sê ‘n vroue stem in Afrikaans met ‘n swaar aksent. Lesley probeer die aksent plaas, maar kan nie. Sy hoor voetstappe en die deur maak oop.

In die deur staan ‘n vrou, Sy is mooi gebou en het pragtige lang swart gekleurde hare wat haar seeblou oë komplimenteer. Sy het ’n blou denim aan en ‘n swart bloes met wit lelies geborduur op die linker bors. Haar vel is ‘n pragtige blas kleur wat, Lesley besef, min son sien. Pragtige hande met lang vingers, skoon lang naels. Een van die hande reik uit na Lesley.

“Ek is Dita” sê die vrou. Lesley neem haar hand en skud liggies.

“Noem my Lesley.”

Dita draai om, wink Lesley binne. Lesley volg haar.

Die Prys van Vergifnis Deel 1

 

Die Prys van Vergifnis

Welkom by my storie Die Prys van Vergifnis, my eerste reeks verhaal in Afrikaans op my blog. Ek hoop julle geniet dit. Lekker lees.

Die Prys van Vergifnis deur Allen Wolfie Simpson

(1)

Lesley Dominic sien eers die Koraal Boom. Vir haar is die pragtige boom asof sy vlamrooi blomme soos vuurtonge is, en die Koraal Boom se takke reik uit na die lug in smeking om nie dood te brand nie. “Dis ek,” dink sy sugtend. “Ek verdien om te brand vir dit wat ek gedoen het – aan Ben…”

Vergifnis… binnekort

Hou die spasie dop. Vir maande lank al skryf ek ‘n storie.

Mande waarin my rekenaar gebreek het, ek dodelik siek was…

Black Dog Book

Black Dog Book

Black Dog Book by Allen Wolfie Simpson

When I was sixteen I stayed after school one afternoon. I was working in the school library, as I was part of the library club. We all made turns to stay after school to help the library teacher, Miss Mathers, clean up. It was just me and her in the room. Everybody was gone.

Once upon an Innocence

Once upon a time, there was a young poet in his senior school year that moved to a huge apartment complex in the city with his parents so that his father could be closer to work. The young poet had dreams in his eyes and was very religious. He tried to live the ways he was brought up, belonging to a Protestant church called Die N.G. Kerk. He even gave Sunday school to blind children at the Prinshof School for the Blind.

Roof

Roof

A story by Allen Wolfie Simpson

The sun was slowly turning in for the night. The western blue sky was replaced by an art piece in shades of red with a few hints of yellow and purple. The sun was a sad orange and looked as miserable as the world was feeling that day. Ben and I just sat there on the roof of my mother’s house…

“Hey Mia?” he said softly.

Die eerste spoke

Ek wil vir julle ‘n spook storie vertel. Nou van julle sal my sê dat daar nie so iets soos spoke is nie, maar ek kan wetenskaplik vir julle bewys vandag dat die spoke waarvan ek praat beslis bestaan. Julle is die spook storie al geleer op skool, maar sommige van julle het nie twee en twee bymekaar gesit en besef dat julle ‘n spook storie gehoor het nie, nie net ‘n spook storie nie, maar dalk die eerste spook storie in die heelal, in die geskiedenis van die heelal.

Leather Pouch

© Allen W. Simpson

I see the past with
A clarity, crystal clear,
There’s only one path
Left to take, I fear.
Remember me as I die…
Fragment from ‘Last thought’ by Allen Simpson

Jack was lying on the cold concrete floor, watching his life’s blood slipping away. Memories flashed before him. The scream of tires trying to brick still fresh in his mind…

It started out quite innocently, three kids going for a picnic at The Fountains. Finch’s Finch-mobile was packed with food, blankets and booze, and his sister, Rhea had a small leather pouch with her, clutching it mysteriously. Jack was new to the neighbourhood and when Finch and Rhea accidentally bumped into him at The Hamburger Stand yesterday, he discovered that he liked them. They spend a few hours talking about the City and all the cool places too hangout at, since Jack didn’t know this part of the city very well.
“Tell you what Jack, let’s meet here tomorrow and go to a cool picnic spot. Since you’re new, my Sis and I will get everything, all you need to do, is to turn up here at, let’s say at Ten? Finch suggested.
Jack decided to go.

Harry (Part 3)

And now the conclusion of the fantasy short story, Harry….

What happened last episode: Our three heroes were on a mission to save the child when they saw a strange man in the woods…

” Then he fainted!” Thera explained to her friends. Rue looked at Thera.
“What in Jarna’s name is ‘thigh can doe’?” She asked her friend.
“And a strip club? Sounds like the ogres designed a new kind of club to hit people with.” Rowan said.
“He’s obviously not from here, he has a black garment on and this funny hat.” Thera looked inside the hat and saw something move. She pulled it out and was amazed to see a white fluffy rabbit.
“This must be his familiar,” she said.
“What kind of magic-user will put a rabbit in a hat?” Rue asked her friends.
“This man fits the description of the magic-user that’s scaring the birds and animals away.”
“I think we must wake this man and find out more.” Rowan suggested and slapped the man slightly on the cheek. The man groaned.
“Ma, wake me up in an hour. It’s too early for rehearsal.”
“You better wake up, funny man,” Rowan threatened. The man opened his left eye, then his right.
“Sweet Caroline, please don’t hurt me.” he begged when he saw Rowan towering before him.
“My name is not Caroline, It’s Rowan Redleaf. I will not hurt you if you behave.”
The man sat upright, grabbed his top hat out of Thera’s hand and placed it on his head.
” Where am I?” he asked politely.
“In the Meya Woodlands.” Thera said.
“Where on earth is that?” the man asked, shocked.

harry (Part 2)

Here follows Part 2 of the fantasy short story

The three adventurers stood in front of the temple. Rowan looked at Thera.
” You go first, you were born here,” he said nervously.
Thera grinned.” It’s just a temple, for Jarna’s sake! My mother will not eat you, you know. She is a friend of your father’s…” Thera tried to ease her friend.” But she’s high up in the Order of Jarna, I don’t even know what to call her. Every time I come here with you I stutter.” Rowan complained.
Suddenly the door opened and an aged human woman in her early sixties stood in the doorway.