Hyena Family in the Rain

Hyena family in the rain

Missing in a Junkyard

My new Mystery Short Story published at Smashwords.com

Gavin Beck photographed the full moon. Then, the Junkyard’s unexpected blinding lights and loud activity ended his photo session. The hairs on his neck and arms prickled, not from cold but from the unknown. “Okay, guys, what are you up to at one-thirty in the morning.”


Personal Information Act (POPIA)

As you may already know, POPIA, South Africa’s new data protection law to keep your personal information safe, comes into full effect on 1st July 2021.

As part of my ongoing commitment to protecting your personal information and ensuring that you have access to trusted, safe, and secure posts, I would like to assure you that your data privacy is my top priority. None of your details will be shared without your prior consent.

Thank you,

death’s head hawkmoth

A new visitor to my garden. This moth grows to 50 mm, is a strong flyer and reach up to 50 km/h

Storm Eloise approaches

common moorhen in a colourful pool

Ghost Riders in the sky

My New web site

I’m busy customizing my new site. Please let me know if you experience a problem.

The Wreck by Michael Reyneke

We get the 911 call at 17:23.

Gail, our dispatcher, signals to Gary and me to get ready while she scribbles the details. Gail uses a note pad to pass on instructions and record the calls. She puts down the phone, glides her wheel-chair across to where we stand ready with our emergence gear.

“Car and motorcycle collision on Zig-Zag road. Caller panicking, shouting dead people,” Gail says and passes me the note. Zig-Zag road is notorious for blind bends and accidents.

“Gary, drive with care when we get there,” I say, and switch on the siren and flashers as we leave the hospital grounds. “You take the bike, I’ll take the car?” I ask.

We arrive at the scene and park the ambulance close but not blocking the road. A quick look around; I see chaos. A motorcycle smashed head-on into a small car. I move to the driver’s side of the wreck. The door is hanging open, where a young woman is crushed in the front seat. Her head, shoulder, and one hand are all I can see.

“Hi, my name is Tracey. I’m the paramedic come to help you,” I say, but can’t smile. I look at her, my heart pounds in my throat. I try, “What is your name?”

She doesn’t answer, her dark eyes stare at me. I study her face. In contrast to her now pale complexion, her lips are bright red. Her lipstick applied to perfection. The look is symmetrical and beautiful.

She talks to me.

“Please pass my mobile. I must call my friend.” I cannot find her phone, I pass her mine. Her red lips tremble. She cannot make the call.

She whispers, “Hold me.” There’s no space, so I rest my hand on her shoulder. I’m with her in death.

%d bloggers like this: