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- Denis Giles
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“Ha, ha, ha,” giggled the slim and slender road as she shifted from side to side, “somebody’s tickling me.”
“They’re digging on either side of you,” I said, “they’re broadening you.”
“Oh my, oh my is that what they’re doing,” cried the road in sudden despair, “why ever would anyone want to play with my figure, I love looking slim and thin.”
“Maybe,” I said, “but the authorities need a broad road, what with the traffic increasing and people wanting to get to places faster than before.”
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- Denis Giles
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A year ago, on that morning of July 5th in a hospital in Mumbai, a voice spoke, “You’re free Father Stan!”
“Free? How can I be free, I’ve been languishing in prison for over eight months! Hey!”
“What?”
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- Denis Giles
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The joyous shouts from the private swimming pool outside, the thought of a scrumptious breakfast soon, the sight of my two beloved daughters and their husbands, and hot coffee brought to my little cottage by my wife, all gladden my heart.
Then I stare at the bathroom, with its beautiful fittings, elegant washbasin and a shower to match, but one switch stares back dolefully, shamefully; the geyser switch. It’s been on all morning, but the limp stream of water that comes out, is just short of being ice cold, not even lukewarm!
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- Denis Giles
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“I hope I’m not going to put you and your family to any inconvenience,” I tell my friend as I enter his house.
“No problems,” for any of us, “We have a guestroom waiting for you!”
I shudder when I hear those words.
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- Denis Giles
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“Dad,” said my daughter one day, “Isn’t it Central Park that you’ve always loved?” I was quiet, because though I loved the park and all the fall colours I was sure it offered, I still knew that it was a bit of a more tedious walk than the river park nearby.
It was just a matter of a few hours, that we were off, my daughter and I to Central Park. She had already painted visual pictures of every tree now a banner of colour awaiting me in the park, and I just couldn’t wait to reach.