My short Stories


South Africa in Winter.                                    Charlie Dimech.

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And finally, the story of true love.
There on the shore she stood, in silouette, black against the greying sky, but as the folds of her windswept, thin transparent robe were taken up in her left hand the right stretched out to me. It was a moment for which I had waited since our parting. A moment in which the past was forgot, the present fulfilled and the future patterned. And if you happened to be passing near you would have been lighted by the explosion of a love - grown  olden and bolden with time - unleashed. .
The future was to hold similar tales for some of our friends here on the island.
"When war comes it will be one hour of mortifying danger for us too on this island.
The earth was given to mankind and has fallen to mankind." so spoke the preacher.
" 'Woe to you mankind for the wrath you rise up in me.' " I felt this voice interiorly as he spoke.
"Soon the earth's smoke-cloud filled sky will  begin to clear.
A new attitude will be forged in the whole lot of mankind that remains.Or maybe it was already present - and only the good survive. All is pure even to the depths of the soul.
A home in heaven even on this earth.
That for which mankind had longed e'er since his loss in the  paradise of Eden.
Six thousand years he toiled on earth. Giving in frequently but never giving up, his hope never failing within him.
As the ebb and tide of his dreams finally comes true he will walk out onto the earth under a strangely beautiful sunlight, and o'erjoyed at having found paradise ...mankind will weep."
The test for those who thought we belonged to this island came soon enough.
 Two years later this ministers  prophesy had come true - and we volunteered to return to civilization and become a part of the mainstream.
 It was a new world and we were glad to return to help the rebuilding process.
 We felt we had something to share.
 We knew the spiritual depth of souls  who had now like us been tried.
 We were on equal footing.
We removed ourselves to the mainland.
Our lives had been spared - and that was all the gratitude we needed to start over.
            Cherrinne's poem:
                                    "the world is free
                                     and so are we
                                     no matter where we find ourselves
                                     no harm can intrude
                                     we can go nude
                                     the likes of us
                                     have paid our trust
                                     to be separated we had a must
                                     for honesty is necessary
                                     to drink from a moonbeam
                                     innocent are our genes
                                     we escaped their spleen
                                     and now glorious
                                     we are
                                     and victorious we are seen."
                                         THE END.

Dedicated to