author - "Alastair Macleod"
"Sure he's here." said Sean in a confident voice."Well he can have this." said Liam, throwing away the remains of the apple he had been eating."He's after it."said Sean.
"What is he wearing?said Ciaran.
Sean again looked to the sky for inspiration.“He’s got red socks. None of them had red socks, all their socks were grey, a job lot mum had bought from the store, “and he’s after wearing long trousers.” None of them had long trousers only short trousers. “And he’s got a purple shirt.”
“A purple shirt! said Liam. “That’s really pushing it, who ever heard of one of us in a purple shirt. We‘d look like thistles.”
"Karen left and headed for a nearby coffee bar – the tension that had built up because of the money, because she was tackling something big in her life, had drained away gradually in Miss Matheson's office – she had seemed so professional, didn’t ask nosy questions about her or her money. Sure, she needed her name, date of birth, what she knew of her mother and other details like that, but not questions loaded with emotion, just factual.
Karen felt a sense of power, something was happening and she had initiated it. She felt a little high"
"Joseph was not fond of the river. He was from a forest tribe – he feared the river god. It seemed so large and powerful, sliding darkly along. Tombe laughed at Joseph's fears - and dreams. Because one night Joseph had a dream; he dreamt the river god rose up and took Tombe away. Joseph awoke in a sweat, but on the bunk below him Tombe was safe.
The next day at break time Joseph took a small path out of the plantation into the nearby forest. The familiar forest sounds enveloped him – the singing of insect wings, the screeks and whistles of birds and the scuffling of leaves as a small mammal moved through the undergrowth"
"In Iceland a long time ago lived a chieftain, Arni at Rennadale. He had a problem - a beautiful young daughter called Astrid who, in 3 years time, would be ready for marriage.
There was already one young man, Sigurd, seeking her hand.
To find out if he was suitable Arni called Sigurd to him and said.
“Long ago I journeyed to Spain and lived there for a year. It is a land of wonders. There was a fruit called the orange, sweet and delicious that grew in the Sultan’s garden. To gain my daughter’s hand you must bring back the seed of this plant and get it to grow”
Ahmed once asked “What is the significance of the red carpet? Why do only some people get it?"
“Some say it is a sign of merit,” said his father, “but in Sardinia they lay it in the streets at New Year to stop the bottles of champagne breaking. Others say it is to keep the shoes of the famous clean, so they are not in the gutter like us.
But even others say the red carpet symbolises the blood they have spilt to gain fame, or in the case of women, the lipstick they have used to allure men.”
"One winter's night, the chief of the McCorquodale's was sitting at his dinner in the great hall of his castle. Logs blazed in the huge fireplace and fir branch torches hung from the stone walls.
Seated at the long table with him were his main men and often his harper would play a tune as they munched their way through some venison or salmon.
As they sat at table a guard came in with a strange announcement; an army was approaching, an army of mice.
The chief got to his feet and with his men went to the battlements.
In the dim light of the moon he could see below him the glitter of hundreds of tiny spears and the moon reflected in hundreds of little helmets and suits of chain mail.
A tiny squeaky voice shouted up "surrender or we will attack"
"Well she’d do her best. She started to think of what she could do to make it something for the kids.
Just then a small red three wheeler pulled up outside her gate. A man and woman in uniform got out. The bloody cops - what next, what has he done now?
They came up the path like no police she knew, beaming from ear to ear.
Then she twigged, Sally Ann, hoping for a donation no doubt. Well, they could think again.
She stubbed out her fag as they drew level. “Mrs Denman? said the woman. "Yes," said Karen. "We’ve heard about your misfortune, we'd like you to accept this." The man held out a large box. “We get donations from people,anonymously,at this time of the year and we like to distribute them where they're needed."
Seeing the worried look on Karen's face he continued, “It's a turkey,a big one."
"Sure he's here." said Sean in a confident voice."Well he can have this." said Liam, throwing away the remains of the apple he had been eating."He's after it."said Sean.
"What is he wearing?said Ciaran.
Sean again looked to the sky for inspiration.“He’s got red socks. None of them had red socks, all their socks were grey, a job lot mum had bought from the store, “and he’s after wearing long trousers.” None of them had long trousers only short trousers. “And he’s got a purple shirt.”
“A purple shirt! said Liam. “That’s really pushing it, who ever heard of one of us in a purple shirt. We‘d look like thistles.”
"Karen left and headed for a nearby coffee bar – the tension that had built up because of the money, because she was tackling something big in her life, had drained away gradually in Miss Matheson's office – she had seemed so professional, didn’t ask nosy questions about her or her money. Sure, she needed her name, date of birth, what she knew of her mother and other details like that, but not questions loaded with emotion, just factual.
Karen felt a sense of power, something was happening and she had initiated it. She felt a little high"
"Joseph was not fond of the river. He was from a forest tribe – he feared the river god. It seemed so large and powerful, sliding darkly along. Tombe laughed at Joseph's fears - and dreams. Because one night Joseph had a dream; he dreamt the river god rose up and took Tombe away. Joseph awoke in a sweat, but on the bunk below him Tombe was safe.
The next day at break time Joseph took a small path out of the plantation into the nearby forest. The familiar forest sounds enveloped him – the singing of insect wings, the screeks and whistles of birds and the scuffling of leaves as a small mammal moved through the undergrowth"
"In Iceland a long time ago lived a chieftain, Arni at Rennadale. He had a problem - a beautiful young daughter called Astrid who, in 3 years time, would be ready for marriage.
There was already one young man, Sigurd, seeking her hand.
To find out if he was suitable Arni called Sigurd to him and said.
“Long ago I journeyed to Spain and lived there for a year. It is a land of wonders. There was a fruit called the orange, sweet and delicious that grew in the Sultan’s garden. To gain my daughter’s hand you must bring back the seed of this plant and get it to grow”
Ahmed once asked “What is the significance of the red carpet? Why do only some people get it?"
“Some say it is a sign of merit,” said his father, “but in Sardinia they lay it in the streets at New Year to stop the bottles of champagne breaking. Others say it is to keep the shoes of the famous clean, so they are not in the gutter like us.
But even others say the red carpet symbolises the blood they have spilt to gain fame, or in the case of women, the lipstick they have used to allure men.”
"One winter's night, the chief of the McCorquodale's was sitting at his dinner in the great hall of his castle. Logs blazed in the huge fireplace and fir branch torches hung from the stone walls.
Seated at the long table with him were his main men and often his harper would play a tune as they munched their way through some venison or salmon.
As they sat at table a guard came in with a strange announcement; an army was approaching, an army of mice.
The chief got to his feet and with his men went to the battlements.
In the dim light of the moon he could see below him the glitter of hundreds of tiny spears and the moon reflected in hundreds of little helmets and suits of chain mail.
A tiny squeaky voice shouted up "surrender or we will attack"
"Well she’d do her best. She started to think of what she could do to make it something for the kids.
Just then a small red three wheeler pulled up outside her gate. A man and woman in uniform got out. The bloody cops - what next, what has he done now?
They came up the path like no police she knew, beaming from ear to ear.
Then she twigged, Sally Ann, hoping for a donation no doubt. Well, they could think again.
She stubbed out her fag as they drew level. “Mrs Denman? said the woman. "Yes," said Karen. "We’ve heard about your misfortune, we'd like you to accept this." The man held out a large box. “We get donations from people,anonymously,at this time of the year and we like to distribute them where they're needed."
Seeing the worried look on Karen's face he continued, “It's a turkey,a big one."