Category Archives: Short Stories

GUYANA: Short Stories: Scouting: Red Water Creek – Atkinson Field – By Geoff Burrowes

By Geoff Burrowes

I’ve dredged up from the recesses of memory a story of my first camping trip that I hope you’ll find interesting:

Red Water Creek – Atkinson Field. Guyana

I woke up excited. This was the day! I was a member of Scout Troop 39 but had never been camping. Today that was going to change forever!

Once a year the Scout Association in British Guiana held a rally to which all Scouts were invited. It took the form of a large camp, with space reserved for every troop’s tent and cooking fire and latrine, as well as a meeting place in a central location for all the Scouts. This year it was being held at Redwater Creek a creek in the bush, about 35 miles South of Georgetown, our city and the capital of our country, BG which was abbreviated from British Guiana. For those who don’t know BG was a British colony on the North shoulder of South America, and still today, the only English speaking nation in South America.                Continue reading

Short Stories – Flights of Fancy – By Geoff and Cruz Burrowes

 – By Geoff and Cruz Burrowes

Fancy Moore loved flying. Her father, Bill, was a big man, tall and with broad shoulders and a roughish twinkle in his eye  He was so big he almost had trouble fitting into his gleaming F35 fighter but he’d passed his love of soaring into the ‘wild blue yonder’ the white clouds, the deep blue sky to his daughter Fancy.

His old yellow Piper Cub plane, which normally slept in the old barn, at the edge of the farmer’s field behind their house, was meticulously serviced and Bill would take Fancy for flights as often as he could so she could savour the smell of old leather and oil and Avgas, could thrill to the roar of the old Continental engine as it pressed her back into her seat as her Dad accelerated down the worn strip of grass.      Continue reading

GUYANA: Short Stories: Words – By Geoff Burrowes

Words – Geoff Burrowes

I love words! Words can weave magic, as in the case of geniuses like William Shakespeare or Winston Churchill, Ian Macdonald or Godfrey Chin but also, terribly, words in the hands of monsters like Hitler or Stalin can cause untold horror and destruction!

I remember, when I was young reading “The French Lieutenant’s Woman”, which was fascinating and later reading two books by the same author which were borderline fantasy. I can’t remember the names of either book but I remember the writing which was magical! It was like a puff of smoke which quickly dissipated in the breeze but the memory of which stayed with the reader. I’m sorry I can’t explain it better than that! True artistry!      Continue reading

BOOK: The MOVE: The Diary of a 12-year-old Girl from Brooklyn – ZOOM at 4:30 pm EST – Saturday, May 7th 2022.

The MOVE: The Diary of a 12-year-old Girl from Brooklyn

Published by KOMAKA TREE BOOKS). 82 pages

Purchase from: Amazon Paperback – Look Inside:  << Click

Lynette deals with big life changing events such as death, divorce, and changes itself! A lot of times adults believe they are shielding these difficulties from youth and children!. However, they see and hear these issues! A great lesson that we can learn from Lynette is that service helps to build up a network of support systems and can heal us. Focusing on and caring for others heals our inner troubles……Fern Havea

Conversations With the Author:

Let’s celebrate the accomplishment of a rising literary star — Ms. Lael Wills our 12-year-old author. Join us on ZOOM at 4:30 pm EST – Saturday, May 7th 2022. Bring children and families!

ZOOM LINK: https://mcmaster.zoom.us/j/92805573797

This event is hosted by Dr. Pauline Baird (of Wah Dih Story Seh and Komaka Tree Books and BOOK IT: A Literary Event).

Thanks for joining.

Pauline Baird (Ph.D.) 

SHORT STORY: A PEACEFUL SPOT – By Geoff Burrowes

– By Geoff Burrowes

They rode down from the low hills toward a long fringe of trees, through which, there was a glimpse of sparkling water!

The savannah stretched away in the distance as far as the eye could see, interrupted only by the savannah islands, unexpected outcroppings, that were as large as mountains, forested on their slopes and breaking the monotony of the flat grasslands.      Continue reading

SHORT STORY: Boysie and Crapaud at Coney Island – By Geoff Burrowes

 By Geoff Burrowes

Boysie was tall and thin. He still managed to be very attractive to the girls he met, in spite of having a stumbling knock knee and a pronounced parrot toe. He was also freakishly good at sports, always captaining and winning the games of cricket and football that broke out on nearby Bourda Green. There was no one his equal on the  ping pong table at St Barnabas Church and as far as the tawa game they played under the tall owra tree, with owra seeds he had no match.

UYANESE oNLINEHis good buddy Crapaud was as short as Boysie was tall. and instead of being thin he was corpulent. He had “short foot” so he had to almost skip to keep up with Boysie when they were out walking. He was an absolute klutz when it came to sport of any kind but Boysie and the”gang” loved having him around because he was clever, side-splittingly funny and it didn’t pay to tan’lize him as by the time your shot hit home he would “pelt a shot” twice as insulting and four times as funny.          Continue reading

SHORT STORIES: Glimpses of a Childhood in British Guiana in the 1940s – By Geoff Burrowes

 By Geoff Burrowes

I was born in colonial British Guiana (now Guyana)  into a white, middle class, Anglican family in Kitty Village in 1942. I mention white because BG, as British Guiana was called, was a multicultural society and although our family didn’t discuss race it was easy to see that not everybody looked the same as we did!

       Middle class because we never missed a meal and had a maid, a cook and a gardener. Our food was plain but tasty and nourishing: breakfast was normally plantain porridge and cocoa, lunch was generally rice, meat or fish with sides of cassava, fried or green plantain and occasionally, ugh, ochro (slippery, slimy ochro). And we called lunch breakfast or brekfuss. Our maid Nanny Cleo and our cook, Ina Murray were unfailingly kind and along with our parents made sure we behaved properly. My mum and dad made sure that we treated them with respect and listened to them.          Continue reading

SHORT STORY: GUYANA: Incident In A Jungle Path – By Ted Eric Matthews

By  Ted  Eric  Matthews

We arrived at Kurupung Creek Mouth at about 5.00 pm.

River sounds and jungle shadows, semi-dark and mottled undergrowth, shimmering leaves, all seemingly playing with the fading patterns of the late afternoon sunlight on vines, on the barks of tree trunks, on everything botanic. River and jungle sounds were all around us, enveloping, pulling us into the dark, heaviness of the unfamiliar, the spirit of the forests, and of the mountains; the spirit of the “bush,” the pull of the “interior.”      Continue reading

SHORT STORIES: Christmas in GT with ‘Anna B’ – By: JeanAnn Field-Ridley

– By: JeanAnn Field-Ridley  –  As We End The Season; A Look Back

Anna B was my mom. She it was who made Christmas ‘happen’. Of course, Dad was chief financier, bringing in his teachers’ pay after he had let it warm his pocket for a few days – reluctant to part with it knowing that he would be left with an empty pocket for the rest of the month. We were, in fact, poor. But we children never knew it. Because Anna B never missed a beat. At Christmas, the toys were there. The pepperpot was there. The ginger beer and mauby were there. So were the biscuits and sweets! But most of all, what Anna B gave to us was Anticipation!

Anticipation has a magic all its own – not to be distilled by reality. And our reality never disappointed even though objectively it should have! After all, we never did get that beautiful walking, talking doll we saw in the store windows when we went window shopping at night. We never got that beautifully equipped doll’s house! O the magic of that house! Did such things really exist? After all, we never did see one outside of the glass case.            Continue reading

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