That November night, Mira would later learn, went down in history. It seemed normal enough as the nuns tended the various children in the dormitory. But before they could even get to sleep, the noises from the heart of the city began. Mira thought she hea...
That Thursday, all pupils were called into the minor-hall in the convent, where the Mother Superior, her voice cracking occasionally, told them that under a decree from the German High Command and with immediate effect, the Roman Catholic nuns would no lo...
It was 1938 and Mira Wurtz, eleven years old, loved to eavesdrop the gossip of the customers in the grocery store where she bought the weekend bread and milk for her busy Grossmama (grandmother), Jana Kanner. Here in the city of Vienna, talk, for a long t...
The river, smooth as a land-locked pool glows silver below us, and the snow crunches under our feet as we stroll towards the mid-point of the bridge. So many times, my searches for nature’s gifts have led me here. But never in winter. And never with a wom...
If I could write a poem, I’d celebrate her style How roses blush in envy, At the radiance of her smile. As I sit in awe, just watching Her form, aglow in silken white. Now she waits, in peace and loveliness For her chosen, loving knight If I could write a...
Hospitals have always made me uneasy, and that was only when visiting. Now, here I was, a patient, and breathing easy. Not allowed to get up yet, though. They don’t half fuss over me. “You’re a special case, Mr Fuller,” the nurses keep saying. Doctors, wh...
At 3.23 a.m. on the 27th of November 1998, the body of 64 years old Norton L. Broadbent was found on the quayside beneath the old Cosborough Bridge. Given the extensive injuries there was little doubt that he had fallen the twenty feet from the bridge. Br...
Strange, isn’t it? Those small things that get listed in the memo pad of the mind. Brief, inconsequential in their setting, and outcome, yet noted, sharp and clear as any major incidents that give our lives direction. A lifetime ago, drawn by the music, I...
Just that—a moment. Not a life resolving, world changing event. Trivial, you will think it. But for me, a just-turned-sixteen, raw, callow adolescent with little knowledge of the way of the world, it was a mind stirring, almost upsetting moment, recalled...
APRIL 1918 Loose soil, mud and clay, dropped from his head and face as he raised his shoulders and chest. Legs still buried, he struggled to free them. Dirt-blurred eyes viewed devastation. Slowly, ears reached beyond a ghostly silence, to take in harsh d...
Elderly Joe Vickers faced Doctor Reed and asked for a full physical examination. The doctor looked puzzled, “Why now?” Joe smiled, “I’m getting married.” “That’s splendid.” “I’m eighty-two and she’s twenty-four,” Joe said. The doctor looking dubious, but...
Clyth in Caithness, north-east Scotland was the original source of my mother’s parents. I was seventy-seven when I felt a renewed need to drive up there. A journey I should have made years ago when I was a shade spritelier. The motivation, in 2011, was ba...
I sat at the back of the hall, as far away from the blare and screech of the music as possible. Did they still call this tuneless, booming stuff music? Gone were the days when you could hear the words and whistle the tune. No way to shut out the laughter...
A nine-year-old coerced into writing thank you letters to relatives after Christmas, finds tact a problem. Dear Aunt Maude, I hope you had a lovely Christmas. Thank you for the present. Socks were just what I needed (Mom says), and such an unusual pattern...
Rain rattled on his large black umbrella, as Mark Dexter leaned over the promenade wall. It had pelted down non-stop since early that Sunday morning and looked set in for the day, accompanied by a gusty breeze. Below him, the sand was hardened all the way...
