today's page
This is where it all happens. The heartbeat of thebookwewrote. Once you’ve caught up with the story so far, review the entries for the next page and cast a vote for your favourites. If you want to submit your own entry, make sure it relates to the correct page of the book and work fast to make sure you don’t get left behind!
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Amanda RaathThursday 23rd of April 2020Donderdagmiddag. 'n Paar verdwaalde strale son val die sitkamer binne. Dis doodstil behalwe vir 'n hond wat 'n blaffie gee en voëls wat saam gesels. Dis nie iets wat jy sal agterkom nie, maar vir haar is dit 'n hoogtepunt wat net een maal per dag na haar kant toe kom. 'n Effense glimlag vorm op haar mond en haar hart gee een klop ekstra, want die herfsson is sag en het nie vergeet van haar wat voor haar rekenaar sit en met die sweet van haar aangesig deur die dag gaan nie. Nee, die son het haar onthou en weet dat hierdie tyd van die middag swaar raak. Donker wolke wil-wil in haar kop begin saamdrom, en al waaraan sy kan dink is om nog 'n koppie koffie te gaan haal. Hoekom is dit elke dag se stryd? Hoekom kan sy nie net sit vir nog twee ure en klaarmaak nie? Alles het verander 'n maand gelede. Een dag het die president op die TV verskyn en vir almal beveel om in hul huise te bly. Daar's 'n siekte daar buite en mense sal doodgaan. So nou sit sy maar wetsgetrou in haar klein kothuis en raak al hoe meer angstig. Wat veronderstel was om 'n avontuur en geskiedkundige gebeurtenis te wees, het ontaard in 'n donker plek. Dalk oordink sy net alles. Dis tog nie so erg nie, die stilte is hemels. Om vyfuur vanmiddag sal die ganse weer oor die dak vlieg, oppad water toe. En natuurlik het sy ook darem nou die son wat die hele sitkamer toespoel. So hoekom kom die donkerte steeds binne? Wanneer sy naby aan trane is en gaan lê op die bank, besef sy. Dis die bome. Want kyk, as daar een ding is wat haar hart warmte bied, is dit die herfsbome, soos sy hulle noem. Dis die natuur se swanesang elke liewe jaar. Elke boom kies of hy geel, rooi, oranje of pienk gaan word net voor al die blare doodgaan en 'n droewige, vaal Afrika winter ons begroet. Daar's iets bittersoet daaraan vir haar. En elke jaar móét sy dit ervaar - van die begin tot die einde van die bome se transformasie. Dis 'n opvoering en sy kan nie vir 'n oomblik wegkyk nie. Maar hierdie jaar moet sy binne bly, alleen met 'n dag van gedagtes wat ronddwaal in die kothuis. Daar's net een boom in die tuin wat blare verwissel. Sy weet sy moet terugkeer na haar werk, sy moet probeer. Nog net twee ure. Twee lang ure. Die stilte is hemels, en terselfdetyd hel. Hoe kan ek maak asof alles okei is as ek weet dat daar 'n wêreld daar buite wag? Angstig spring sy op. Soos vele maal tevore. Sy móét net gou kyk... net vinnig. Dit sal nie eens 'n minuut vat nie, belowe. Sy sluit bewerig die deur oop en kyk op. Dankie tog, die bome het nog blare. |
Craig PikeThursday 23rd of April 2020I lie awake staring at the ceiling, it is just past midnight on a hot, humid, sticky summers evening. I can hear the sound of my fan buzzing away drowning out any sounds that the dark of night brings. The deepest and darkest part of night that terrifies, where ghosts come to visit, where secrets are hidden and what is exposed by the light, stays hidden in this deep darkness. My mind races at a million miles an hour, but why does it race, where do these thoughts come from. It is only myself lying here, no one is around, but it feels like the room is crowded, how does the room feel so small as it is only myself, myself and my thoughts. The question I ask myself is “when will I ever be able to forgive myself’? Will I ever be able to forget this moment? Am I waiting for society to step in and gratify my actions, the decisions that I took? Were these actions premeditated, actions that my subconscious knew I would take, or were these actions opportunistic? Am I the hero or the villain? I must admit, I am far from perfect. I’ve made many mistakes and have many flaws; I am the first to admit this. I need to know was this transgression forgivable, this transgression goes without public punishment, yet I punish myself, I punish myself with these thoughts, this shame of myself and doubt I can go on, should I go on? I wonder is that what I have become is just the sum of my external circumstances. Was it the way I was treated by my parents? Was it the way society treated me? I want to change, I need to change, or am I worthy of what I have become. I wonder again, can I rehabilitate, am I a madman or a modern day saviour. These actions that I took, these actions came out of love, or were they lust. I guess the only way to make up my mind, this mind that races, this mind that is in constant battle with right and wrong, is to go back to the beginning, to where it all started. |
bradley wellsWednesday 22nd of April 2020It begins with hope and possibilities , the feeling of uncertainty , where all our dreams and wishes can be built for ourselves and others through our continued kindness and passion for a greater and more beautiful world. We open our eyes to a new day , still with sleep in our eyes slowly letting that first breath of a new day fill our lungs and the smell of coffee and the sound of life beginning once more. Like any other day it starts with one foot in front of the other, but unlike every other day, it has its endless possibilities. We have the time to make and build ourselves and our lives everyday in anyway. To sit outside and hear the birds singing the morning anthem, the flowers in full bloom surrounded by the givers of life buzzing to fetch that pollen. My beautiful home an world is no awake, hit with a suspenseful thought; "what can i put my heart and mind to today". This question during a time of lockdown is a reoccurring one but one that gives such joy and unknown ideas. To do something I enjoy, maybe bake my grandmother's famous melktart, or read a book in the sun with some relaxing choons in my ear and just drift away. Suddenly i got hit with this idea after re watching highlights of my favorite golf pros, "time for some backyard PGA , lets try build up a mini mashy course of some kind" With such excitement in my soul, I set off to uncover my clubs all dusted up and filled with more cobwebs than anything else. Luckily i manage to find some old golf balls and continue on. First i grab myself a bucket, for the "18th" hole and set it up at one end of the garden. Now as i get ready to line up my first pitch to the green , as hats the extent of my mashy course in all its glory, I realise i have no support. So i ran off to fetch my speaker and decide to stream some more of those highlights and imagine myself, one on one with tiger woods on the last hole, itching for the win. Getting into these vibes is my favorite part of lockdown, sheer imagination and joy. So i shoot my first shot, and to my surprise, i get two feet to the bucket, all seems to be going well , I'm on my way to winning the first ever backyard lockdown PGA. then it happens right as i begin to take my aim, she creeps up behind ever so sneakily, without hesitation, she pounces , grabs the ball and runs. My beautiful Labrador excitingly runs and now its time to play her game. She did not care about my possible championship on the way, only wanted to have some one on one time with her best friend, and hey what more can i ask for than to be able to enjoy that everyday. Until tomorrow |