Category Archives: 2. Saturday Centus

From childhood, Alexandra was destined to care for animals. In time, she joined with friends to buy an animal refuge. Her goal was to have it run by like-minded volunteers.

This is how she met Wendy, the name given a young orphaned wombat. Wendy, so young, didn’t have much of a chance of survival. Most didn’t yet Alexandra was determined and spent many sleepless nights.

“This one will survive,” she said as Wendy snuggled up to her.

As is the goal of rescuing wildlife, the time came to release Wendy. For Alexandra, saying goodbye was harder than she thought. Wendy took one look back and was gone.

The family had gathered, grandfather in a large chair. The chair dominated the small room.

Once strong, grandfather was frail, worn by years of toil and care. He saw his youngest grandson, just three.

“Come to your grandad,” he smiled with his hands held out.

The child approached, eyes bright for one he loved, not able to say granddad, “Gangy.”

Grandad sat his grandson on his lap, “How’s my big man?”

“Good, Gangy” he replied.

Grandad slipped a sweet to the boy, “Don’t tell mummy.”

“Hanks,” replied the grandson with a smile.

Gangy now long gone, the memory remains, the child grown to tell the tale.

Seeking ways to make a difference.

The time of union had passed. The wedding was at the firehouse, the celebration on the village green. There had been partying. Now all was quiet.

Miklik announced, “Kinsfolk, it’s almost time. Rise and await the coming.”

Legend had told of this time. Lady Sky would wed Lord Fire and bring light into the world. This was to be the first morning.

“Look!” shouted a young kinschild.

All eyes turned in the direction of the pointing child. The first light started to show above the distant horizon. Kinsfolk cheered. The union had been successful. Light had fallen on the world. Darkness would no longer reign alone.

Schools and students have permission to use this graphic for non-commercial, educational purposes.

 
Suzie and Steven had always been together. How could it be otherwise, they were twins.
 
“Steven, I’m hungry.”
 
“We’re almost there.”
 
One thing the twins had in common was their lack of interest in moving anywhere quickly. Eventually they arrived where Steven had intended.
 
Suzie’s eyes scanned the scene, “This is great. There’s two peas in a pod, one for each of us.”
 
Each chose a pea and started to enjoy their simple meal, slowly as usual. Neither had seen the approaching danger.
 
Crunch!
 
A booming voice was heard as Steven and his sister died, “I just squashed two more snails in the vegies, dad.”
 

“Mummy?”

“Yes, Michael.”

“I think my teacher has killed some people.”

“Why would you think that?”

“I heard another teacher tell her, ‘We know where all the bodies are buried.’.”

Mummy smiled, “That’s not what it means, Michael. It means the other teacher knew all about something that had happened not that your teacher really killed someone.”

“Oh?” Michael was still confused.

“It’s what’s called an idiom. An idiom doesn’t really mean what it says.”

The next day, “Miss Jones?”

“Yes, Michael?”

“I thought you had killed someone because a teacher said she knew about the bodies but mummy explained.”

“What did she say?”

“You’re an idiot, miss.”

Part 1

Children gathered around, anxious to make a start on our seaside walk. They’d been excited for weeks in anticipation of seeing the sea-worn cliffs.

Not long into the walk, I heard a scream. Adults checked. All were there.

Another scream.

Peering over the cliff edge, I saw a child. We phoned for help as I comforted her.

“I’m slipping!” she screamed.

I couldn’t stand the thought of doing nothing so I started down.

Grabbing the best handhold I could, “Take my hand.”

She couldn’t reach. I had to give up my footing relying on one handhold.

“He’s hanging off a cliff!” someone above called.

Now Part 2

Stretching out towards her, fingers touched. I felt her sweaty hand in mine. There was terror in her eyes.

I smiled, “I have you.”

“I just wanted a day off school,” she sobbed.

From above came the sound of a helicopter. A rope dropped. We were soon secured and lifted.
 

 

 
Children gathered around, anxious to make a start on our seaside walk. They’d been excited for weeks in anticipation of seeing the sea-worn cliffs.

Not long into the walk, I heard a scream. Adults checked. All were there.

Another scream.

Peering over the cliff edge, I saw a child. We phoned for help as I comforted her.

“I’m slipping!” she screamed.

I couldn’t stand the thought of doing nothing so I started down.

Grabbing the best handhold I could, “Take my hand.”

She couldn’t reach. I had to give up my footing relying on one handhold.

“He’s hanging off a cliff!” someone above called.
 

 
“Daddy, what’s a New Year revolution?”

Daddy smiled, “Resolution not revolution.  It’s where people make promises to themselves to do things to make their life better.”

“Do they keep their promises?”

Daddy smiled, “Some do but many don’t.”

“They break their promise? That’s naughty. I’ll make a New Year’s resolution that I’m going to keep.”

“What is that?” he asked expecting something simple.

“I promise to always love you and mummy even when you have to tell me I’ve done something bad.”

Daddy smiled, “Resolution! Schmezolution! Mummy and I will always love you even if you’ve been naughty.”

“Forever, daddy?”

“…and ever.”

Click to check out all the entries for Saturday Centus Week 87.

The family Christmas party, a tradition where we’d gather to celebrate. Presents would be given, news would be told, children would be playing, an argument to stop, a bruise from a fall, the cacophony of being part of a family.

Time for the meal, children sitting separately. Food had been prepared, a task shared by many gathered. Tables covered with treats and drinks suitable for young and old.

“Mummy, Johnny hit me,” a call rings out.

A parent responds. An argument sorted.

Uncle is getting a little too loud, having started his celebration earlier than most. A frown from some slows his pace.

There’s always at least one, “Suzie’s been sick.”

The volume grows. Children and adults happy, sad, angry, loud, the general spread of life before us on this day.

Only I sit quietly, pondering the meaning of the gathering and the struggle at times to keep the joy. Why do we go through this each year?

I heard an angel voice through the chaos and noise. Jackie was singing, a voice so pure. She reminds us of all the right reasons we gather.

The tables are quiet.

“Merry Christmas, everyone,” she ends.

What blessing granted her a voice to quiet us all? Surely the angels have touched her soul.

Schools and students have permission to use this graphic for non-commercial, educational purposes.