Footballers

Footballers, my short story is available on my website www.authorsden.com/laurellamperd
The short story was published in the West Australian Newspapers thirty years ago. It was one of my first stories published. I was thrilled to bits. Sadly, the West doesn't publish short stories and poetry anymore. It's what I like about the web. you can air old writings again.
Below is a short excerpt.

Kenny saw his father’s football trophies in the cupboard set high on the kitchen wall. Tarnished with black smudges, the silver cups gleamed dully in the afternoon sunlight shafting through the kitchen window.

"You'll be up there one day too, fella," his father would say as he gave one of the silver cups to Kenny to hold.

Kenny ran his fingers over the writing. "What does it say, Dad?” he’d ask though he knew it by heart.

“Best Player in Southerners Football Team,” his father would say. 

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The second book in the Walara series. Danny and Will Hennessy join up in WW2 leaving their father, Jack Hennessy to manage the huge Walara sheep station
The book can be purchased as a download from www.barnesandnoble.com

The Gentle Wind's Caress released

My historical novel, The Gentle Wind's Caress, has been released in paperback and in digital formats. Yay!

The Blurb:Halifax, 1876. On the death of her mother and sister, Isabelle Gibson is left to fend for herself and her brother in a privately-run workhouse. After the matron's son attempts to rape her, Isabelle decides to escape him and a life of drudgery by agreeing to marry a moorland farmer she has never met. But this man, Farrell, is a drunkard and a bully in constant feud with his landlord, Ethan Harrington. When Farrell bungles a robbery and deserts her, Isabelle and Ethan are thrown together as she struggles to save the farm. Both are married and must hide their growing love. But despite the secrecy, Isabelle draws strength from Ethan as faces from the past return to haunt her and a tragedy is set to strike that will change all of their lives forever.

The except:‘He’ll be here soon.’ Hughie sat by the fire darning a sock. ‘The snow has likely held him up.’
‘What keeps him out night after night?’ She stamped her foot in frustration. ‘He drinks more than a sailor does on his first day back at port!’
 Hughie grinned.The sound of scratching made Isabelle frown. The snowstorm grew in intensity. She could no longer see the outbuildings. The scratching sounded again. ‘What is that?’
Hughie shrugged. ‘The trees on the window upstairs?’
Isabelle stepped away from the window, nibbling her fingertips. There would be no market day today. She went to walk into the scullery when a thump hit the back door. She opened it and cried out as Farrell landed at her feet.
Hughie dashed to her side and together they stared at her husband’s bloody form.‘Heaven’s above!’ Isabelle bent to touch him. He stirred and moaned. ‘Help me bring him inside, Hughie.’
They grabbed him under the arms and dragged him down the step and onto the kitchen floor. His coat was missing and his wet woollen vest cloaked him like another skin.
Farrell opened and closed his eyes. ‘Isabelle…’
‘What happened to you?’ She took a dishcloth from the table and knelt to wipe the blood oozing from a cut in his forehead. She gestured to Hughie. ‘Get me some blankets off the bed and a pillow too. He’s too heavy to lift, so I’ll have to make a bed in here for him.
’As Hughie ran to do as she bid, Isabelle quickly made him a cup of sweet tea and held his head up to pour a little into his mouth. Next, she rubbed Farrell’s cold hands between her own. Hughie ran into the room with the items she asked for, and Isabelle placed the pillow under Farrell’s head. ‘Heat a warming pan, Hughie.’
Farrell’s eyes fluttered, he moaned between blue lips.
Isabelle ran into the scullery and found an old pair of gloves. She returned and tugged them onto his icy hands. ‘Lord, what have you done to yourself?’
He murmured and opened his eyes. She tucked the blanket around him more securely. ‘Lie still.’
‘No…’She put the cup to his lips again. ‘Drink this now. You need to get warm.’
He slowly eased himself up onto one elbow. ‘Got to hide.’ He wheezed and then coughed. His split lip began to bleed freely again.
‘Hide?’ She frowned. ‘Why?’
‘They’ll find me here!’ He tried to get up, but she pushed him back down. 
‘Who?’
‘Had to run…’
Hughie knelt down beside them. ‘Has he lost his mind?’
‘Heaven knows, silly man. It’d be hardly surprising if he has, being out in this weather all night.’ She made Farrell drink again. ‘Take his boots off, Hughie.’
‘No!’ Farrell reared up. ‘I must hide.’ He gripped Isabelle’s arms until they hurt. His eyes were wide and frightened. ‘I can’t hide here. They’ll find me.’
In a panic, Isabelle glanced up at the door as though the riders from Hell would burst through it any moment. She flung away his hands, alarmed. ‘What have you done?’ Her voice sounded high to her ears.
‘They nearly caught me. Had to run.’ Farrell panted, throwing off the blanket, struggling to sit up. ‘They saw my face. I must go!’
Isabelle stood and hugged herself, fighting rising terror. ‘Tell me,’ she whispered.

To Purchase:
Amazon USA
http://www.amazon.com/Gentle-Winds-Caress-Anne-Brear/dp/1908483326/ref=sr_1_5?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1338918193&sr=1-5
Amazon UK
http://www.amazon.co.uk/-/e/B00705A120

Congratulations to Wendy for the excellent Calamity's Corner she produced this month. For Writers, Readers and Movie Buffs who enjoy a bright informative newsletter. Contact Calamity at calam@live.com.au for a free download.
Happy Birthday to Calamity's Corner for the newsletter celebrates its fourth birthday. And to Wendy for producing a top newsletter each month. I mustn't forget Spirzli, the birthday girl, who celebrates her third birthday.
Maggie Anderson, whose latest book is, The Reluctant Marquess, writes an interesting article about Those Fabulous Georgians. I've written a Regency romance and am in the midst of writing another so I lapped up Maggie's article.

 

Rebecca Ryalls Russell writes an excellent review of the new hit movies, The Hunger Games. The short synopsis she gives reminds me of the Greek myth of Theseus who volunteers to join the seven young men and seven young women who are sent to Crete from Athens each year as tribute. The King Must Die, based on the Theseus myth, is one of my favourite books.

Peter Bernhardt, American espionage writer, visits beautiful Sedona and produces lovely photos and interesting description about the area.

Jacqui Rogers in her monthly spot, A Blast from the Past, writes about Hopalong Cassidy, brings back memories for some of us who are old enough to remember the Saturday afternoon pictures when the cowboy was king.

Plenty more interesting reading in June's Calamity's Corner.

 

 

The Blue Vase was read on the ABC  about twenty years ago. I'm glad to air it again here.

THE BLUE VASE 

She is more

My mother's daughter

than mine.

I hear their laughter

in the living room

while I make tea

in the kitchen. 

When my grandmother died

Her daughters

divided her valuables. 

From the waste heap

I rescued the blue vase. 

My grandmother told me

Her mother had brought it

from Scotland.

It had belonged

to her mother. 

The blue vase

Sits on the windowsill.

Beside it is the one

my daughter gave me

made by some modern potter. 

Beyond the living room

My granddaughter plays in the garden.

When she is grown

I shall give her

the blue vase. 

Laurel Lamperd

           *       *       *

Available as a download from www.omnlit.com

Joe Hennessy builds a sheep station in the Carnarvon district of Western Australia.

Ice King by Geoff Woodland

Thanks to Geoff Woodland for his fanastic review of my last book, Journey from Walara.

Journey from Walara

After reading Wind from Danyari I had to read the sequel, Journey from Walara, by West Australian author, Laurel Lamperd.
The Hennessy boys go to war, Danny to England to be trained as a bomber pilot, and Will joins the Australian Army and is sent to New Guinea. The story begins in the time of innocence in Australia of 1939. The author showed me the lives of people in outback Australia of that time, and how their innocence changed as the war progressed.
Lamperd has the knack of describing the conditions of north west Australia to such an extent that she has my mouth dry from wind blown sand, only to be washed clean in the next chapter by watered down beer in a London pub on a damp wet night, after a bombing raid over Germany. Her description of the Kakoda trail, the mud, the tropical heat and rain, with the expectation of fighting the Japanese brings to life the bestiality of man when at war.
It is not a story of war, but a story of a family caught up in a war. How relationships are made and broken, some deliberate others beyond control of the character. I read the book on a Kindle and after I’d finished, the characters and the locations stuck in my mind for days, even though I was travelling and seeing new places. A well told story.

If you want to discover more about Geoff and his latest book, 'Ice King' check out his website www.geoffwoodland.com

'Ice King' A saga set during the dying days of the African slave trade.

The Japanese Grandmother

Love Came at Christmas, a short story, is my free read this week. Two homeless teenagers meet at Christmas. Read the complete story on my website at www.authorsden.com/laurellamperd

The park was small and on the edge of the city block. Further down the hill, the river could be glimpsed, blue and sparkling in the morning sunshine. Three yachts, their white sails gleaming, followed each other like sentries on guard.

Yesterday, the girl had sat on the same bench in the park, watching the last minute rush of Christmas shoppers. They all seemed to have a destination to go to and carried their brightly coloured Christmas bags with a jaunty air.

Now, the city was almost deserted except for the boy stretched out seemingly asleep on a bench a few metres away. He was a tall rangy boy, too thin for his height. Fifteen minutes earlier, he'd been eating a pie. The girl had felt a twinge of hunger watching him. She wasn't a pie eater but she was hungry enough to eat anything.  

As if conscious of her watching him, the boy sat up. "Hi," he called across the small area of grass between them. "What's new?"

"Nothing much." She didn't feel like talking to him. She didn't feel like talking to anyone.

Download, The Japanese Grandmother, my anthology of my short stories & poetry, from www.apple-ebooks.com

Phytophthora dieback which causes the most severe and widespread damage to native plants in Western Australia. The most susceptible of the indigenous species most affected belong to four families - PROTEACEAE, FABACEAE, ERICACEAE, MYTACEAE 

Death of a Species 

Southwards

To the west country

he said he was going.

The petrol gurgled in the tank.

In place of heat waves

Above the saltbush

came visions of forest country

moss and lichen

running water.

Once my country. 

Dieback's got the jarrah

He said

as he handed me fifty dollars

and roared off in the BMW. 

I thought how dreams could change

From soft green to stark grey. 

Laurel Lamperd

*        *        *

Download from www.smashwords.com

Six fantasy and animal stories suitable for children 4 - 9.