Ok! This is not fiction, Jim Murray is real, And I was going to post this under the haunting section, but got a bit carried away, thought I was a writer... so this will be an ongoing post....
"Ok, here's that Ghost story that was relayed to me by phone from Jim Murray in Jhb. Before I start,
I think it would help if I told you about Jim Murray briefly.
Jim Murray is a pensioner, who now lives in ALberton, South Africa, and telephoned me one day out
of the blue after hearing about the website . He explained to me that he worked up in the
Spergebiedt in the early 60's but did not work for CDM, but rather for a company that had a
contract with CDM.
He went on to tell me that he was a qualified diver and that he was part of a six man (european)
crew that were involved in a mutltitude of tasks up at Elizabeth Bay. The reason why I stated that
they were European, was that they were the only white people up in that section of the Spergebiedt.
The nearest other white people were in Luderitz. They also had a small contingent of 8 ovambo
workers to help with the more manual work.
Now just to bring a few of you up to speed about Elizabeth Bay. This town is a ghost town. It was
last in operation sometime in the early 1900's and was run by the Colonial Germans. There is a link
on the main site at (http://www.oranjemundonline.com/Elizabethbay and Bogenfels/index.htm) . This
gives you a better idea of the area.
Now Jim and the others, were almost like the original pioneers of that end of the deserted
Spergebiedt. One chap was a geologist, the other a blaster..... they all had various skills and
worked together as a team.They did a lot of survey work, measuring tides, movements of the sands,
prospecting and my favourite, exploring in their free time.
The only place they could live at while up in Elizabeth Bay, was the abandoned General Mangers
house, which had been rigged up with a generator for power. This house, if you look at the photo's
on the main site, looks imposing with a panaromic view over the ghost town and the actual bay of
Elizabeth.
They also had a house allocated to them back in Oranjemund. This house was used for when the team
would finish work on a friday , all jump into the landrovers and head to Oranjemund for the dance
and song, which was the infamous CDM off weekend. One of the Europeans would always have to stay
behind to keep an eye on the Ovambo Workers.The ovambo workers did not reside with the Europeans,
but lived in a small compound which was situated at the bottom of the hill on which the General
Manager's house stood.
It was on one of these off weekends, that our story actually begins......
It was sometime in the early 60's and it had been one of those long dry weeks up at the old
abandoned settlement of Elizabeth Bay, but Friday had arrived and five members of the team were
clambering onto the Landrover, in preparation for the dusty drive south through the Spergebiedts
never ending sand dunes.In a few hours, they would all be sitting in the famous Casey's bar of
Oranjemund, knocking back a few well deserved beers.
This time around, Jim Murray had drawn the short straw, it was his turn to stay alone in the old
double story house. It looked out of place, this German style building of brick and mortar, with
wooden roofing, perched on a desolate rocky outcrop, overlooking the sand covered mining town of
Elizabeth Bay. Jim waved and turned his back, as the Landrover merged into one with the shimmering
afternoon desert. Looking up at the building, he wondered what he would be doing with the rest of
his solitary weekend."
next installment ??
"The rest of the late afternoon faded as the sun disappeared behind the rolling Atlantic waves to
the West. The Ovambo helper, Sam, said Good Night to Jim as he picked up his paraffine lantern and
headed down the rocky track to the compound at the foot of the hill. Jim glanced up as the first
crystal clear stars broke through the ever darkening skies. For a change the mist had not rolled in
off the Atlantic. He took another sip of the beer that he had been nursing since his companions had
departed. Nobody to play darts against, too dark to go out and explore.... only thing left would be
to head upstairs to his room, perhaps a good book might do the trick.
The big wooden windows that looked out from Jim's room had one of the best views out towards the
bay to the west, the only downside was the fact that the icy cold prevailing wind would often
hammer against the window, causing many a sleepless night. In order to prevent the incessant
banging of the window, Jim had taken it apon himself to hammer nails throught the aging wooden
window frames, thus securing the windows from opening. As a further good measure, he pushed the
dressing table against the window.
Jim removed his heavy, damp boots and swung his tall heavy frame onto the bed, book in hand, facing
the wall, he removed the bookmark."
Next episode ??
Are you writing this Michael or were you given a draft? I did read correctly at the beginning that you putting this to-gether? Did I? Very Very good my boy.
Please finish the story Mike, the suspense is killing me!
pls Mike......we are sitting up and we promise to be good - I'll even organise the return of the bar; just tell us more.......
:emot19:
No serious now. I think Mike is trying to cope with the gout again. notfair :emot112:
Mike is back, sorry guys, I was off work for a few days, and was not up to typing or thinking that much, but I am feeling 95% so I will be back online today...... I'll try post the next part of the tale, which remember is true..... well 95% off it.....
When are we getting the next chapter?
Monday, I guess!
idontknow
The attempted lobotomy must ahve really slowed you down .. nothing that a bit of R&R and braai and lots of beer wont sort out hey ? Actually read an article in the papers about running blog sites .. can draw a paralell to you .. it wears the site holder or in the case of you the moderator out .. so take a break ,,, relax ...
Thank you Sandy, I will indeed indulge in a good bout of beer consumption and perhaps a few flames whilst the rugger is on.....
next installment please ?? pls
Monday is the second busiest day of my week..... tuesday.....
Hey! you're cheating - you can't keep changing the date of the next installment......I'm keeping an eye on you :emot77:
"Somewhere up on the roof, a piece of wood had kept up it's constant knocking against a support
beam, the cold wind , in unison with the distant waves addeded to the late night symphony.Jim
lifted his unfocused eyes from the pages,he glanced over his right shoulder,wondering if it had
been the book that had planted the seed of suspicion in his tired mind? He reckoned it must have
been about the fourth time that evening, that he had to avert his eyes from the book, just to
placify his mind, perhaps to ensure himself, that there was indeed, nobody else in that cluttered
room with him.
Slowly sliding the bookmark between the pages, his eyes focused on the window, "This is stupid, I'm
in the middle of the desert, a restricted part of the desert at that, there can't be anyone out
there", he thought to himself.
With a thundering crash, the stack of yellow books that had been sitting on the left hand corner of
the table,tumbled to the wooden floor,causing Jim to sit upright on the bed. Almost as if the
window had burst open, an unseen gust had picked up the remaining diverse articles from the table
and quckly threw them into an all consuming circular motion in the centre of the room.As the vortex
picked up speed,a hairbrush narrowly shot passed Jim's head, smashing against the wall....Jim sat,
staring, motionless in a state of pure shock, his mind unable to comprehend the unexplainable, that
chaotic scene in front of him.....books, papers and clothes tumbling in an uncontrolable flight in
the middle of his dimly lit room......."
A vortex .. interesting ....
More more more!!!
We want to be released from the vortex ..tell us more ..
I could just kick Mike for this anticipation.......... hurry up and tell the rest!
:emot19: :tifo1:
You guys are even more fun than the story...
The peanut gallery...... laughpoint
This is worse than watching a brilliant series on tv..........geez Mike - out with it.....
Ok.. here's the full version up until where I am now, I put it all together in order to make a bit more sense...
"Ok, here's that Ghost story that was relayed to me by phone from Jim Murray in Jhb. Before I start, I think it would help if I told you about Jim Murray briefly.
Jim Murray is a pensioner, who now lives in Alberton, South Africa, and telephoned me one day out of the blue after hearing about the website. He explained to me that he worked up in the Spergebiedt in the early 60's but did not work for CDM, but rather for a company that had a contract with CDM.
He went on to tell me that he was a qualified diver and that he was part of a six man (European) crew that were involved in a multitude of tasks up at Elizabeth Bay. The reason why I stated that they were European was that they were the only white people up in that section of the Spergebiedt. The nearest other white people were in Luderitz. They also had a small contingent of 8 ovambo workers to help with the more manual work.
Now just to bring a few of you up to speed about Elizabeth Bay. This town is a ghost town. It was last in operation sometime in the early 1900's and was run by the Colonial Germans. There is a link on the main site at (http://www.oranjemundonline.com/ElizabethbayandBogenfels/index.htm). This gives you a better idea of the area.
Now Jim and the others were almost like the original pioneers of that end of the deserted Spergebiedt. One chap was a geologist, the other a blaster..... they all had various skills and worked together as a team. They did a lot of survey work, measuring tides, movements of the sands, prospecting and my favourite, exploring in their free time.
The only place they could live at while up in Elizabeth Bay, was the abandoned General Mangers house, which had been rigged up with a generator for power. This house, if you look at the photos on the main site, looks imposing with a panoramic view over the ghost town and the actual bay of Elizabeth.
They also had a house allocated to them back in Oranjemund. This house was used for when the team would finish work on a Friday , all jump into the land rovers and head to Oranjemund for the dance and song, which was the infamous CDM off weekend. One of the Europeans would always have to stay behind to keep an eye on the Ovambo Workers. The Ovambo workers did not reside with the Europeans, but lived in a small compound which was situated at the bottom of the hill on which the General Manager's house stood.
It was on one of these off weekends, that our story actually begins......
It was sometime in the early 60's and it had been one of those long dry weeks up at the old abandoned settlement of Elizabeth Bay, but Friday had arrived and five members of the team were clambering onto the Landover, in preparation for the dusty drive south through the Spergebiedts never ending sand dunes. In a few hours, they would all be sitting in the famous Casey's bar of Oranjemund, knocking back a few well deserved beers.
This time around, Jim Murray had drawn the short straw, it was his turn to stay alone in the old double story house. It looked out of place, this German style building of brick and mortar, with wooden roofing, perched on a desolate rocky outcrop, overlooking the sand covered mining town of Elizabeth Bay. Jim waved and turned his back, as the Landrover merged into one with the shimmering afternoon desert. Looking up at the building, he wondered what he would be doing with the rest of his solitary weekend.
The rest of the late afternoon faded as the sun disappeared behind the rolling Atlantic waves to the West. The Ovambo helper, Sam, said Good Night to Jim as he picked up his paraffine lantern and headed down the rocky track to the compound at the foot of the hill. Jim glanced up as the first crystal clear stars broke through the ever darkening skies. For a change the mist had not rolled in off the Atlantic. He took another sip of the beer that he had been nursing since his companions had departed. Nobody to play darts against, too dark to go out and explore.... only thing left would be to head upstairs to his room, perhaps a good book might do the trick.
The big wooden windows that looked out from Jim's room had one of the best views out towards the bay to the west, the only downside was the fact that the icy cold prevailing wind would often hammer against the window, causing many a sleepless night. In order to prevent the incessant banging of the window, Jim had taken it apon himself to hammer nails throught the aging wooden window frames, thus securing the windows from opening. As a further good measure, he pushed the dressing table against the window.
Jim removed his heavy, damp boots and swung his tall muscular frame onto the bed, book in hand, facing the wall, he removed the bookmark.
Somewhere up on the roof, a piece of wood had kept up it's constant knocking against a support beam, the cold wind , in unison with the distant waves addeded to the late night symphony.Jim lifted his unfocused eyes from the pages,he glanced over his right shoulder,wondering if it had been the book that had planted the seed of suspicion in his tired mind? He reckoned it must have been about the fourth time that evening, that he had to avert his eyes from the book, just to placify his mind, perhaps to ensure himself, that there was indeed, nobody else in that cluttered room with him.
Slowly sliding the bookmark between the pages, his eyes focused on the window, "This is stupid, I'm in the middle of the desert, a restricted part of the desert at that, there can't be anyone out there", he thought to himself.
With a thundering crash, the stack of yellow books that had been sitting on the left hand corner of the table, tumbled to the wooden floor, causing Jim to sit upright on the bed. Almost as if the window had burst open, an unseen gust had picked up the remaining diverse articles from the table and quickly threw them into an all consuming circular motion in the centre of the room. As the vortex picked up speed, a hairbrush narrowly shot passed Jim's head, smashing against the wall....Jim sat, staring, motionless in a state of pure shock, his mind unable to comprehend the unexplainable, that chaotic scene in front of him.....books, papers and clothes tumbling in an uncontrollable flight in the middle of his dimly lit room.......
"This cannot be happening.....It's impossible!", Jim thought to himself, regaining his senses glancing towards the window, as a two hundred page novel managed to extract itself from the ever spinning vortex, slamming itself against the old, unvarnished door.
Deep down, Jim was hoping that the rustic wooden window had somehow managed to be blown open by the desert winds, thus to an extent helping to explain the unnatural events occurring before his widened eyes., Jim's disheartened eyes fell apon the still sealed window, firmly shuttered by the bent nails he had impaled into the aging timber frames when they had first arrived at this abandoned colonial building.
Surrendering the little courage he had left, he spun himself back onto the bed as the book he had just been reading was extracted from his white knuckled fingers and absorbed into the ever widening vortex.
He did the only sensible thing he could think of, a kind of child like mentality, perhaps a memory that had been instantly rekindled, a memory he had forgotten, from when in his childhood, he had reason to feel fear... a time to hide, turn away from the threat and with his hands covering his ears, he turned his back, pressing down onto his creaking bed, he pressed his face and body flat against the bare wall, hoping his exposed and shaking back would protect him from the unexplainable.
No matter how hard he pressed his hands over his ears, no matter how much he endeavored to push his body into the wall, that sound would not subside. It was a sound that he would later describe as that of being attached to the roof of a Skymaster plane, with every wind in the world hurtling around you in an unorganized and extremely dangerous fashion. The only noise that needed to be added, was that of a screeching steam train rushing through the middle of the vortex to compliment the swirling winds.
Almost as sudden as ......"
You must have been a Torturer in a previous life - I am sure of it now!
And, my dear Orange Aunty.... you may indeed be right.... laughpoint
He's making fun of us Dalene.
next episode ??
Even though I am mad at you for making us beg for more, I must compliment you on your style of writing. I am sure Jim would not have given the story in so much detail over the phone, and if I'm right and you have elaborated on it, I think you should consider writing a novel.
Actually, when you get to meet Jim, or speak to him one day, you will be caught up in the way that he does tell his tales.Ya, sure I added a bit of spice.... but when Jim phones me...you're looking at a 45 minute call..easy...and a great guy....... He was says...."Mike , Listen to me, my boy!"... I just smaak that....... those are the old ways....
allgood
Sounds like an interesting character, hope he is coming to the reunion.
His wife and him are talking about it. He misses this end of the world terribly..... :emot78:
The rest of the story please , or we going to make you read the entire book of nostradamus cover to cover ..
hahahaha.... I'm still catching up on bits and pieces.... But rest assured..this week..this week..... I still have about 40 Newsletters from the 70's to upload...., And I;m busy doing Malcolms Pictures.... so it will be in the week....
:emot26:
Tell you what Mike - just give Jim my number cause this is the worst torture ever
@ Michael .. got the nostradamus book close at hand and waiting for you ....
I too have a Nostradamus book..paperback..... bought it about 14 years ago.... according to him...the moslems should be ruling Europe by now....... kinda late are'nt they?
I too have a book on Nostradamus - am I right in saying it was only after things happened that people sat up and said ''Oh yeah; Nostradamus said that'' - I think you can take quite a few meanings out of his predictions and manipulate them to suit yourself...........correct me if I'm wrong.......go on, I dare you!!! thumper
ONce again...I do not profess to be a supporter Of his, I just find the stuff fascinating and...yes! I also agree, you can twist the words to fit.... eg...9/11
For example - everything............sure if we could predict what was going to happen; then there would be no fun
...and if we did not all die.... the earth would be packed by now..... SO is Life.... No Future, A Past and you're gonna die......
iknow
Ok Mike you off the reading nostradamus hook for now .. ever get the email one with all the numerology relating to 9/11 interesting but then again you can twist things around to suit ,, but then again intrigueing hey ?? Now wheres Jims story ??
We're all going to die??? First you don't believe in Mickey Mouse and then we're all going to die..........go and sit in your wardrobe and think about what you're saying
Jim's story this week.... I saw that email.... the twins falling and all that... how come they never saw that coming then...
My wardrobe is too small for a big man like me..... feedme
@ sandyb,
did you see the one of all the 12es? something about zodiac signs, referring to bible, 12 disiples, 12 tribes of israel . etc,etc
@ Chris .. I see and get to read a lot .. My opinion .. whatever blows your hair back ... its all interesting and yes thought provoking .. even old Mickeys visits to me and Rhona late in the night .. and we gonna have to build a bigger cupboard for Mike ...
The wardrobes I remember were quite big - but maybe that's cause I was only little......... I bought a new saw and set of screwdrivers over the w.end - so I'm game to build a new wardrobe........anyone got a measuring tape?
Quote from: Michael Alexander on May 05, 2008, 05:52:39 PM
I too have a Nostradamus book..paperback..... bought it about 14 years ago.... according to him...the moslems should be ruling Europe by now....... kinda late are'nt they?
Mikes quite was in this topic so I put this in here ... the topic will of course become more subject relevant once Mike posts the next chapter if Jims story hey ??
Well how's these disturbing pics .. not inciting any doom gloom hatred or racism . but these gentle folk of a certain religious persuasion pictured here that always accuse the world of declaring war on them or victimising or whatever makes them get so oversentitised and climb on their high horses .. are in many cases .. guests in europe and england australia and america .. as the australian prime minister said in a widely critiscised speech he made .. he told them of the radical persuasion basically . if you cant fit in f... off ....
I just cannot get over how much hatred is displayed .. I am no expert but according to well read people the q'uoran does not condone this sort of behaviour .. its again people taking out selected passages and twisting them to suit their purpose pretty much the same way that fundamentalist christians do .. no diff .. only problem is these gentle folk do really seem to want to over-run the world ..
There's a lot to be said about this religion, but if I spoke openly I would be on their 'most wanted list' ... There are several schools of thought and each one interprets the coran differently. Gosh, I wish I could speak freely iknow
I get your point Sandy...maybe the prediction is a few decades out...but don't forget the CHinese...the yellow people are coming,.,,
On another point, Jim Murray phoned me again this morning......over an hour on the phone...People the stories that this guy tells ...unbelievable..... he is still trying to come here...anyone from JHB got a lift.....
The people would believe the stories this guy tells if you passed the things on to the rest of us............Come on now - out with it
@ Mike .. not even refering to the nostradamus .. its just to me a frightening thing to see .. so much hatred and intolerance and an air of total self righteousness.. If it were my country ( me president ) I would arrest the whole lot and deport them from whence they came ..I mean there are laws against hate speech and slogans in most countries ??
Rhona .. bars open again .. I have an adequate supply of shiraz .. maybe Mickey Mouse even pops in for a quick one ?/ we must tell mike if he does Ok ??
BierSuip cheers - that Mike fella always goes to bed before the bar opens......I heard Mickey was bringing his girlfriend with him tonight...
Minnie .. the mousegirl with the outsized shoes ??
But what a wonderfull smile..............course you know what they say about big shoes?
they cost more
Nope - Big shoes; big feet!!!
Big feet Big ???
Socks.....
So Innocent ??
But of course, innocent and oh so shy......
Butter wouldn't melt in your mouth Rhona bighug
For sure Barbara - you tell them....................how have you been; me thinks you've been hiding on us - did some of the bots have you hostage
Ok, here's that Ghost story that was relayed to me by phone from Jim Murray in Jhb. Before I start, I think it would help if I told you about Jim Murray briefly.
Jim Murray is a pensioner, who now lives in Alberton, South Africa, and telephoned me one day out of the blue after hearing about the website. He explained to me that he worked up in the Spergebiedt in the early 60's but did not work for CDM, but rather for a company that had a contract with CDM.
He went on to tell me that he was a qualified diver and that he was part of a six man (European) crew that were involved in a multitude of tasks up at Elizabeth Bay. The reason why I stated that they were European was that they were the only white people up in that section of the Spergebiedt. The nearest other white people were in Luderitz. They also had a small contingent of 8 ovambo workers to help with the more manual work.
Now just to bring a few of you up to speed about Elizabeth Bay. This town is a ghost town. It was last in operation sometime in the early 1900's and was run by the Colonial Germans. There is a link on the main site at (http://www.oranjemundonline.com/ElizabethbayandBogenfels/index.htm). This gives you a better idea of the area.
Now Jim and the others were almost like the original pioneers of that end of the deserted Spergebiedt. One chap was a geologist, the other a blaster..... they all had various skills and worked together as a team. They did a lot of survey work, measuring tides, movements of the sands, prospecting and my favourite, exploring in their free time.
The only place they could live at while up in Elizabeth Bay, was the abandoned General Mangers house, which had been rigged up with a generator for power. This house, if you look at the photos on the main site, looks imposing with a panoramic view over the ghost town and the actual bay of Elizabeth.
They also had a house allocated to them back in Oranjemund. This house was used for when the team would finish work on a Friday , all jump into the land rovers and head to Oranjemund for the dance and song, which was the infamous CDM off weekend. One of the Europeans would always have to stay behind to keep an eye on the Ovambo Workers. The Ovambo workers did not reside with the Europeans, but lived in a small compound which was situated at the bottom of the hill on which the General Manager's house stood.
It was on one of these off weekends, that our story actually begins......
It was sometime in the early 60's and it had been one of those long dry weeks up at the old abandoned settlement of Elizabeth Bay, but Friday had arrived and five members of the team were clambering onto the Landover, in preparation for the dusty drive south through the Spergebiedt's never ending sand dunes. In a few hours, they would all be sitting in the famous Casey's bar of Oranjemund, knocking back a few well deserved beers.
This time around, Jim Murray had drawn the short straw, it was his turn to stay alone in the old double story house. It looked out of place, this German style building of brick and mortar, with wooden roofing, perched on a desolate rocky outcrop, overlooking the sand covered mining town of Elizabeth Bay. Jim waved and turned his back, as the Landrover merged into one with the shimmering afternoon desert. Looking up at the building, he wondered what he would be doing with the rest of his solitary weekend.
The rest of the late afternoon faded as the sun disappeared behind the rolling Atlantic waves to the West. The Ovambo helper, Sam, said Good Night to Jim as he picked up his paraffin lantern and headed down the rocky track to the compound at the foot of the hill. Jim glanced up as the first crystal clear stars broke through the ever darkening skies. For a change the mist had not rolled in off the Atlantic. He took another sip of the beer that he had been nursing since his companions had departed. Nobody to play darts against, too dark to go out and explore.... only thing left would be to head upstairs to his room, perhaps a good book might do the trick.
The big wooden windows that looked out from Jim's room had one of the best views out towards the bay to the west, the only downside was the fact that the icy cold prevailing wind would often hammer against the window, causing many a sleepless night. In order to prevent the incessant banging of the window, Jim had taken it upon himself to hammer nails through the aging wooden window frames, thus securing the windows from opening. As a further good measure, he pushed the dressing table against the window.
Jim removed his heavy, damp boots and swung his tall muscular frame onto the bed, book in hand, facing the wall, he removed the bookmark.
Somewhere up on the roof, a piece of wood had kept up it's constant knocking against a support beam, the cold wind , in unison with the distant waves added to the late night symphony. Jim lifted his unfocused eyes from the pages, he glanced over his right shoulder, wondering if it had been the book that had planted the seed of suspicion in his tired mind? He reckoned it must have been about the fourth time that evening, that he had to avert his eyes from the book, just to pacify his mind, perhaps to ensure himself, that there was indeed, nobody else in that cluttered room with him.
Slowly sliding the bookmark between the pages, his eyes focused on the window, "This is stupid, I'm in the middle of the desert, a restricted part of the desert at that, there can't be anyone out there", he thought to himself.
With a thundering crash, the stack of yellow books that had been sitting on the left hand corner of the table, tumbled to the wooden floor, causing Jim to sit upright on the bed. Almost as if the window had burst open, an unseen gust had picked up the remaining diverse articles from the table and quickly threw them into an all consuming circular motion in the centre of the room. As the vortex picked up speed, a hairbrush narrowly shot passed Jim's head, smashing against the wall....Jim sat, staring, motionless in a state of pure shock, his mind unable to comprehend the unexplainable, that chaotic scene in front of him.....books, papers and clothes tumbling in an uncontrollable flight in the middle of his dimly lit room.......
"This cannot be happening.....It's impossible!", Jim thought to himself, regaining his senses glancing towards the window, as a two hundred page novel managed to extract itself from the ever spinning vortex, slamming itself against the old, unvarnished door.
Deep down, Jim was hoping that the rustic wooden window had somehow managed to be blown open by the desert winds, thus to an extent helping to explain the unnatural events occurring before his widened eyes., Jim's disheartened eyes fell upon the still sealed window, firmly shuttered by the bent nails he had impaled into the aging timber frames when they had first arrived at this abandoned colonial building.
Surrendering the little courage he had left, he spun himself back onto the bed as the book he had just been reading was extracted from his white knuckled fingers and absorbed into the ever widening vortex.
He did the only sensible thing he could think of, a kind of child like mentality, perhaps a memory that had been instantly rekindled, a memory he had forgotten, from when in his childhood, he had reason to feel fear... a time to hide, turn away from the threat and with his hands covering his ears, he turned his back, pressing down onto his creaking bed, he pressed his face and body flat against the bare wall, hoping his exposed and shaking back would protect him from the unexplainable.
No matter how hard he pressed his hands over his ears, no matter how much he endeavored to push his body into the wall, that sound would not subside. It was a sound that he would later describe as that of being attached to the roof of a Skymaster plane, with every wind in the world hurtling around you in an unorganized and extremely dangerous fashion. The only noise that needed to be added, was that of a screeching steam train rushing through the middle of the vortex to compliment the swirling winds.
Almost as suddenly as it had started, as black and white differ, the cacophony of noise ceased, silence returned to the littered room. Jim heard the last book collapse to the wooden floor, but still could not bear to draw up enough courage to turn around to see what scene might greet him.
It is a well known fact, that the human mind is more than capable of creating entities, when there is in actual fact nothing there.. As a child we all remember the monster under the bed scenario. At times, when we are uncertain, confused, perhaps in the dark, alone, we conjure up all these images. This was the immediate thought that Jim had been thinking to himself.
He could feel the presence, a something, perhaps another being, standing just behind his shivering back. "Where has my courage gone?", he thought to himself, "For God's sake, I swim with the sharks and killer whales down in the rocky bay, all I have to do is turn around, all I have...". It was then that he realized to himself that he was not shaking because of fear, but the room's temperature had dropped dramatically. "Shit, it felt like I was diving in the Southern Atlantic without my wetsuit." he would recount later to his mates in the bar at Oranjemund.
The chilling coldness felt unnatural, a coldness that seemed threatening, together with the feeling that somebody was standing directly behind him, intensified as the lingering dampness caused his teeth to start chattering......"Just turn around, just do it!", he repeated to himself....
After a brief mental battle with his inner conscience, he eventually brought his courage to the fore, he started to slowly turn his body towards the presence in the room, when like a bullet shooting through his leg, he felt.....
Geez Mike, it's been over a month now and the story's not finished yet!
I guess if you don't :emot182: braai or watch catchball this week-end you might have a chance to finish the story!
e154 from your poledancing1 boobs wife!
Omelette....thats all I want!
e154
Hmmmmmm.....
Omelete....is that whats IT'S called now days.
And the suspense continues........... dammit Michael - get the finger out and finish this story......
Diana - what are you talking about??????? I happen to make a mean cheese omelette!!!!!!!!!
Is no topic safe these days?
:sorriso2:
Nothing is safe from us - ladies, Michelle...........try putting chopped mushrooms; onions and bacon through that cheese omelette........mmm! mmm!
My beloved wife, Michele happens to make the best cheese omelette this side og the equator....
cookin
Forget the omlette boy its the story we want !!
Quote from: Michael Alexander on May 09, 2008, 09:12:40 PM
My beloved wife, Michele happens to make the best cheese omelette this side og the equator....
cookin
what times breakfast
faceinfood
Michele is having a long overdue lie in this morning, the kids slept over at the neighbours, so she i shaving her once a year late lie in.......
Breakfast ain't omelettes today, Frosty FLakes all the way....
frosty flakes ?
oats mike oats
Oats?
Beer Koos Beer!
:emot19:
Quote from: Michael Alexander on May 10, 2008, 06:07:26 AM
Michele is having a long overdue lie in this morning, the kids slept over at the neighbours, so she i shaving her once a year late lie in.......
Breakfast ain't omelettes today, Frosty FLakes all the way....
kids sleeping out
michele sleeping late
mmmm!
:emot19:
Yep! Yep!..... concentrate Koos, COncentrate...... I have to catch up in the forum, coz my good wife took over the PC last night for a good two hours...never got my fix.....
Quote from: Koos on May 10, 2008, 06:20:32 AM
Quote from: Michael Alexander on May 10, 2008, 06:07:26 AM
Michele is having a long overdue lie in this morning, the kids slept over at the neighbours, so she i shaving her once a year late lie in.......
Breakfast ain't omelettes today, Frosty FLakes all the way....
kids sleeping out
michele sleeping late
mmmm!
:emot19:
I like the way you think, Koos. Maybe u'r not so bad as the people say u are...lol
Did u notice there was a mention made of "shaving her" as well? MMMMMM! Naughty,naughty Michael. daman
Damn! I will now never hear the end of that...That was a typo......... Sigh!
:emot26: pls
and I only asked about the omlette and got sh@t out.
.... and I only made a typo...Now Michele is shaving.......
:emot19:
Ok, here's that Ghost story that was relayed to me by phone from Jim Murray in Jhb. Before I start, I think it would help if I told you about Jim Murray briefly.
Jim Murray is a pensioner, who now lives in Alberton, South Africa, and telephoned me one day out of the blue after hearing about the website. He explained to me that he worked up in the Spergebiedt in the early 60's but did not work for CDM, but rather for a company that had a contract with CDM.
He went on to tell me that he was a qualified diver and that he was part of a six man (European) crew that were involved in a multitude of tasks up at Elizabeth Bay. The reason why I stated that they were European was that they were the only white people up in that section of the Spergebiedt. The nearest other white people were in Luderitz. They also had a small contingent of 8 ovambo workers to help with the more manual work.
Now just to bring a few of you up to speed about Elizabeth Bay. This town is a ghost town. It was last in operation sometime in the early 1900's and was run by the Colonial Germans. There is a link on the main site at (http://www.oranjemundonline.com/ElizabethbayandBogenfels/index.htm). This gives you a better idea of the area.
Now Jim and the others were almost like the original pioneers of that end of the deserted Spergebiedt. One chap was a geologist, the other a blaster..... they all had various skills and worked together as a team. They did a lot of survey work, measuring tides, movements of the sands, prospecting and my favourite, exploring in their free time.
The only place they could live at while up in Elizabeth Bay, was the abandoned General Mangers house, which had been rigged up with a generator for power. This house, if you look at the photos on the main site, looks imposing with a panoramic view over the ghost town and the actual bay of Elizabeth.
They also had a house allocated to them back in Oranjemund. This house was used for when the team would finish work on a Friday , all jump into the land rovers and head to Oranjemund for the dance and song, which was the infamous CDM off weekend. One of the Europeans would always have to stay behind to keep an eye on the Ovambo Workers. The Ovambo workers did not reside with the Europeans, but lived in a small compound which was situated at the bottom of the hill on which the General Manager's house stood.
It was on one of these off weekends, that our story actually begins......
"It was sometime in the early 60's and it had been one of those long dry weeks up at the old abandoned settlement of Elizabeth Bay, but Friday had arrived and five members of the team were clambering onto the Landover, in preparation for the dusty drive south through the Spergebiedt's never ending sand dunes. In a few hours, they would all be sitting in the famous Casey's bar of Oranjemund, knocking back a few well deserved beers.
This time around, Jim Murray had drawn the short straw, it was his turn to stay alone in the old double story house. It looked out of place, this German style building of brick and mortar, with wooden roofing, perched on a desolate rocky outcrop, overlooking the sand covered mining town of Elizabeth Bay. Jim waved and turned his back, as the Landrover merged into one with the shimmering afternoon desert. Looking up at the building, he wondered what he would be doing with the rest of his solitary weekend.
The rest of the late afternoon faded as the sun disappeared behind the rolling Atlantic waves to the West. The Ovambo helper, Sam, said Good Night to Jim as he picked up his paraffin lantern and headed down the rocky track to the compound at the foot of the hill. Jim glanced up as the first crystal clear stars broke through the ever darkening skies. For a change the mist had not rolled in off the Atlantic. He took another sip of the beer that he had been nursing since his companions had departed. Nobody to play darts against, too dark to go out and explore.... only thing left would be to head upstairs to his room, perhaps a good book might do the trick.
The big wooden windows that looked out from Jim's room had one of the best views out towards the bay to the west, the only downside was the fact that the icy cold prevailing wind would often hammer against the window, causing many a sleepless night. In order to prevent the incessant banging of the window, Jim had taken it upon himself to hammer nails through the aging wooden window frames, thus securing the windows from opening. As a further good measure, he pushed the dressing table against the window.
Jim removed his heavy, damp boots and swung his tall muscular frame onto the bed, book in hand, facing the wall, he removed the bookmark.
Somewhere up on the roof, a piece of wood had kept up it's constant knocking against a support beam, the cold wind , in unison with the distant waves added to the late night symphony. Jim lifted his unfocused eyes from the pages, he glanced over his right shoulder, wondering if it had been the book that had planted the seed of suspicion in his tired mind? He reckoned it must have been about the fourth time that evening, that he had to avert his eyes from the book, just to pacify his mind, perhaps to ensure himself, that there was indeed, nobody else in that cluttered room with him.
Slowly sliding the bookmark between the pages, his eyes focused on the window, "This is stupid, I'm in the middle of the desert, a restricted part of the desert at that, there can't be anyone out there", he thought to himself.
With a thundering crash, the stack of yellow books that had been sitting on the left hand corner of the table, tumbled to the wooden floor, causing Jim to sit upright on the bed. Almost as if the window had burst open, an unseen gust had picked up the remaining diverse articles from the table and quickly threw them into an all consuming circular motion in the centre of the room. As the vortex picked up speed, a hairbrush narrowly shot passed Jim's head, smashing against the wall....Jim sat, staring, motionless in a state of pure shock, his mind unable to comprehend the unexplainable, that chaotic scene in front of him.....books, papers and clothes tumbling in an uncontrollable flight in the middle of his dimly lit room.......
"This cannot be happening.....It's impossible!", Jim thought to himself, regaining his senses glancing towards the window, as a two hundred page novel managed to extract itself from the ever spinning vortex, slamming itself against the old, unvarnished door.
Deep down, Jim was hoping that the rustic wooden window had somehow managed to be blown open by the desert winds, thus to an extent helping to explain the unnatural events occurring before his widened eyes., Jim's disheartened eyes fell upon the still sealed window, firmly shuttered by the bent nails he had impaled into the aging timber frames when they had first arrived at this abandoned colonial building.
Surrendering the little courage he had left, he spun himself back onto the bed as the book he had just been reading was extracted from his white knuckled fingers and absorbed into the ever widening vortex.
He did the only sensible thing he could think of, a kind of child like mentality, perhaps a memory that had been instantly rekindled, a memory he had forgotten, from when in his childhood, he had reason to feel fear... a time to hide, turn away from the threat and with his hands covering his ears, he turned his back, pressing down onto his creaking bed, he pressed his face and body flat against the bare wall, hoping his exposed and shaking back would protect him from the unexplainable.
No matter how hard he pressed his hands over his ears, no matter how much he endeavored to push his body into the wall, that sound would not subside. It was a sound that he would later describe as that of being attached to the roof of a Skymaster plane, with every wind in the world hurtling around you in an unorganized and extremely dangerous fashion. The only noise that needed to be added, was that of a screeching steam train rushing through the middle of the vortex to compliment the swirling winds.
Almost as suddenly as it had started, as black and white differ, the cacophony of noise ceased, silence returned to the littered room. Jim heard the last book collapse to the wooden floor, but still could not bear to draw up enough courage to turn around to see what scene might greet him.
It is a well known fact, that the human mind is more than capable of creating entities, when there is in actual fact nothing there.. As a child we all remember the monster under the bed scenario. At times, when we are uncertain, confused, perhaps in the dark, alone, we conjure up all these images. This was the immediate thought that Jim had been thinking to himself.
He could feel the presence, a something, perhaps another being, standing just behind his shivering back. "Where has my courage gone?", he thought to himself, "For God's sake, I swim with the sharks and killer whales down in the rocky bay, all I have to do is turn around, all I have...". It was then that he realized to himself that he was not shaking because of fear, but the room's temperature had dropped dramatically. "Shit, it felt like I was diving in the Southern Atlantic without my wetsuit." he would recount later to his mates in the bar at Oranjemund.
The chilling coldness felt unnatural, a coldness that seemed threatening, together with the feeling that somebody was standing directly behind him, intensified as the lingering dampness caused his teeth to start chattering......"Just turn around, just do it!", he repeated to himself....
After a brief mental battle with his inner conscience, he eventually brought his courage to the fore, he started to slowly turn his body towards the presence in the room, when like a bullet shooting through his leg, he felt an ice cold hand grip his left exposed calf. He instinctively turned to look at his leg, at the same time realizing that even though the sensation that his leg was being held, there was nobody there.... The suffocating fear was overwhelming, he never remembered it happening, but every muscle in his sweating body, had enough pure adrenalin saturating through them to catapult his body, headfirst off the damp bed and through the electric air into the direction of the partially opened door.
Like an escaping rabbit trying to burrow into it's warren, he clawed on all trembling fours for the safety of the wooden door, gasping he squeezed through into the hallway as an ear piercing screech emanated from behind him. He raised himself up and started to descend the rickety staircase. As water would thunder down a wild waterfall, he crashed down onto the ground floor and headed for the front door. Turning the brass doorknob, he opened the creaking door....he exited that disturbed building and entered into the cool desert night, celestial stars spread out in every direction, the night sky ever absorbing his rancid fear. He stumbled to a stop barely fifteen meters from the luminated house, turning around he looked back..... the bedroom window still sealed closed, radiated a yellowish hue as the generator spluttered and then caught it's breath continuing to play it's familiar diesel tune to the barren silent night."
riveting .. more please .. comment later ...
aaaaaaaaaggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!! I so want more - but will somebody please hold my hand?
Come on ..its not that scary .. ..
I know - I was hoping Mike would try and 'scare' me more and give up the rest of the story..........
oooh! There's more...plenty more ... at least we have almost completed friday night...we have the entire weekend to go until on monday morning...when........
Monday morning??? - is there anything worse than the bloody alarm clock going off on a Monday morning reminding you that the whole 'work thing' is starting all over again.............
Your photo keeps a changing....... :36_2_35:
A wise man cut a few pictures for me.......... e154
Not me, the other wise man...lol
THE wisest man....
Whils't we're on the topic of wise men, have you heard the one about why Jesus wasn't born in Ireland?
Mike wassu?come on finish the story man !!! meanpuff omelete,ha bling1
@ carl........... i know ...... couldt find awise man or a virgin????????
Quote from: Chris Macpherson on May 20, 2008, 07:16:11 PM
@ carl........... i know ...... couldt find awise man or a virgin????????
I was hoping somebody would complete the joke for me. Now I'm not the one in Rhona's dogbox...lol :36_2_35:
the irish lads invented the toilet seat and the scots perfected it by cutting a whole in the middle........
:emot19: And then the Centaurus hostel boys placed cling wrap over the toilet bowl under the seat of the hostel master's toilet... The 4 cuts were worth it! :36_2_35:
Would that be Grobberlaar, Carl, or had he left by then?
Quote from: Carl Wrbka on May 22, 2008, 06:01:07 AM
:emot19: And then the Centaurus hostel boys placed cling wrap over the toilet bowl under the seat of the hostel master's toilet... The 4 cuts were worth it! :36_2_35:
I CANT STOP LAUGHING AT THAT ONE ...!!
We stuck a fire hydrant under the toilet door and let it loose, it was the chemical type that eats up the oxygen and blows out a big plume of smoke.....you shoulda seen that boy running down the hallway with kakpaper hanging out his arse
mike i know someone who let off a fire extuinguisher in the rec club and was nearly murdered for it.
Yes, I'm sure you do.... and were'nt you lucky that they never caught you....
For those of you who think I am talking tosh about Jim Murray, here is a photo of him from the 60's up at the GM"s house in EBAY...
i had to go practically tee totol for a year though....... anyway the woman involved and me r best mates till this day!!
Mike - is that the 'mad' house?
hi rhona. that is the gms' house , i have also been there.
That is indeed the GM's house up at Ebay, the one that the story is on about.....
Here's another pic of Jim on one of the Landrovers......
Doesn't look like he scares easily....
Here's a recent photo of Jim and GLoria ......
Quote from: Michael Alexander on May 05, 2008, 05:52:39 PM
I too have a Nostradamus book..paperback..... bought it about 14 years ago.... according to him...the moslems should be ruling Europe by now....... kinda late are'nt they?
no mike where you been .....they took over years ago.....them and every other religion.......we dont have our own country anymore.....they do....im not colour predujdice at all i have friends of all colours and races, but it makes my blood boil when were stopped from doing things of our own culture because the asians find it offensive.....well let them go live back in asia.......but no.....our goverment is only to please the non british people...or thats how it seems........
Quote from: Diana Rudd (Boehme) on May 22, 2008, 12:38:41 PM
Would that be Grobberlaar, Carl, or had he left by then?
Hi Diana, no it was Kallie Fourie at the time. He was there untill about a year before I left, and was followed up by Mr Crossman, who was also the headmaster of Centaurus then. I can't remember the girls hostel master's name right now, only remember he was the Geography teacher at Centaurus at the time as well.
In my time it was Mr.Genis
Ok, here's that Ghost story that was relayed to me by phone from Jim Murray in Jhb. Before I start, I think it would help if I told you about Jim Murray briefly.
Jim Murray is a pensioner, who now lives in Alberton, South Africa, and telephoned me one day out of the blue after hearing about the website. He explained to me that he worked up in the Spergebiedt in the early 60's but did not work for CDM, but rather for a company that had a contract with CDM.
He went on to tell me that he was a qualified diver and that he was part of a six man (European) crew that were involved in a multitude of tasks up at Elizabeth Bay. The reason why I stated that they were European was that they were the only white people up in that section of the Spergebiedt. The nearest other white people were in Luderitz. They also had a small contingent of 8 ovambo workers to help with the more manual work.
Now just to bring a few of you up to speed about Elizabeth Bay. This town is a ghost town. It was last in operation sometime in the early 1900's and was run by the Colonial Germans. There is a link on the main site at (http://www.oranjemundonline.com/ElizabethbayandBogenfels/index.htm). This gives you a better idea of the area.
Now Jim and the others were almost like the original pioneers of that end of the deserted Spergebiedt. One chap was a geologist, the other a blaster..... they all had various skills and worked together as a team. They did a lot of survey work, measuring tides, movements of the sands, prospecting and my favourite, exploring in their free time.
The only place they could live at while up in Elizabeth Bay, was the abandoned General Mangers house, which had been rigged up with a generator for power. This house, if you look at the photos on the main site, looks imposing with a panoramic view over the ghost town and the actual bay of Elizabeth.
They also had a house allocated to them back in Oranjemund. This house was used for when the team would finish work on a Friday , all jump into the land rovers and head to Oranjemund for the dance and song, which was the infamous CDM off weekend. One of the Europeans would always have to stay behind to keep an eye on the Ovambo Workers. The Ovambo workers did not reside with the Europeans, but lived in a small compound which was situated at the bottom of the hill on which the General Manager's house stood.
It was on one of these off weekends, that our story actually begins......
It was sometime in the early 60's and it had been one of those long dry weeks up at the old abandoned settlement of Elizabeth Bay, but Friday had arrived and five members of the team were clambering onto the Landover, in preparation for the dusty drive south through the Spergebiedt's never ending sand dunes. In a few hours, they would all be sitting in the famous Casey's bar of Oranjemund, knocking back a few well deserved beers.
This time around, Jim Murray had drawn the short straw, it was his turn to stay alone in the old double story house. It looked out of place, this German style building of brick and mortar, with wooden roofing, perched on a desolate rocky outcrop, overlooking the sand covered mining town of Elizabeth Bay. Jim waved and turned his back, as the Landrover merged into one with the shimmering afternoon desert. Looking up at the building, he wondered what he would be doing with the rest of his solitary weekend.
The rest of the late afternoon faded as the sun disappeared behind the rolling Atlantic waves to the West. The Ovambo helper, Sam, said Good Night to Jim as he picked up his paraffin lantern and headed down the rocky track to the compound at the foot of the hill. Jim glanced up as the first crystal clear stars broke through the ever darkening skies. For a change the mist had not rolled in off the Atlantic. He took another sip of the beer that he had been nursing since his companions had departed. Nobody to play darts against, too dark to go out and explore.... only thing left would be to head upstairs to his room, perhaps a good book might do the trick.
The big wooden windows that looked out from Jim's room had one of the best views out towards the bay to the west, the only downside was the fact that the icy cold prevailing wind would often hammer against the window, causing many a sleepless night. In order to prevent the incessant banging of the window, Jim had taken it upon himself to hammer nails through the aging wooden window frames, thus securing the windows from opening. As a further good measure, he pushed the dressing table against the window.
Jim removed his heavy, damp boots and swung his tall muscular frame onto the bed, book in hand, facing the wall, he removed the bookmark.
Somewhere up on the roof, a piece of wood had kept up it's constant knocking against a support beam, the cold wind , in unison with the distant waves added to the late night symphony. Jim lifted his unfocused eyes from the pages, he glanced over his right shoulder, wondering if it had been the book that had planted the seed of suspicion in his tired mind? He reckoned it must have been about the fourth time that evening, that he had to avert his eyes from the book, just to pacify his mind, perhaps to ensure himself, that there was indeed, nobody else in that cluttered room with him.
Slowly sliding the bookmark between the pages, his eyes focused on the window, "This is stupid, I'm in the middle of the desert, a restricted part of the desert at that, there can't be anyone out there", he thought to himself.
With a thundering crash, the stack of yellow books that had been sitting on the left hand corner of the table, tumbled to the wooden floor, causing Jim to sit upright on the bed. Almost as if the window had burst open, an unseen gust had picked up the remaining diverse articles from the table and quickly threw them into an all consuming circular motion in the centre of the room. As the vortex picked up speed, a hairbrush narrowly shot passed Jim's head, smashing against the wall....Jim sat, staring, motionless in a state of pure shock, his mind unable to comprehend the unexplainable, that chaotic scene in front of him.....books, papers and clothes tumbling in an uncontrollable flight in the middle of his dimly lit room.......
"This cannot be happening.....It's impossible!", Jim thought to himself, regaining his senses glancing towards the window, as a two hundred page novel managed to extract itself from the ever spinning vortex, slamming itself against the old, unvarnished door.
Deep down, Jim was hoping that the rustic wooden window had somehow managed to be blown open by the desert winds, thus to an extent helping to explain the unnatural events occurring before his widened eyes., Jim's disheartened eyes fell upon the still sealed window, firmly shuttered by the bent nails he had impaled into the aging timber frames when they had first arrived at this abandoned colonial building.
Surrendering the little courage he had left, he spun himself back onto the bed as the book he had just been reading was extracted from his white knuckled fingers and absorbed into the ever widening vortex.
He did the only sensible thing he could think of, a kind of child like mentality, perhaps a memory that had been instantly rekindled, a memory he had forgotten, from when in his childhood, he had reason to feel fear... a time to hide, turn away from the threat and with his hands covering his ears, he turned his back, pressing down onto his creaking bed, he pressed his face and body flat against the bare wall, hoping his exposed and shaking back would protect him from the unexplainable.
No matter how hard he pressed his hands over his ears, no matter how much he endeavored to push his body into the wall, that sound would not subside. It was a sound that he would later describe as that of being attached to the roof of a Skymaster plane, with every wind in the world hurtling around you in an unorganized and extremely dangerous fashion. The only noise that needed to be added, was that of a screeching steam train rushing through the middle of the vortex to compliment the swirling winds.
Almost as suddenly as it had started, as black and white differ, the cacophony of noise ceased, silence returned to the littered room. Jim heard the last book collapse to the wooden floor, but still could not bear to draw up enough courage to turn around to see what scene might greet him.
It is a well known fact, that the human mind is more than capable of creating entities, when there is in actual fact nothing there.. As a child we all remember the monster under the bed scenario. At times, when we are uncertain, confused, perhaps in the dark, alone, we conjure up all these images. This was the immediate thought that Jim had been thinking to himself.
He could feel the presence, a something, perhaps another being, standing just behind his shivering back. "Where has my courage gone?", he thought to himself, "For God's sake, I swim with the sharks and killer whales down in the rocky bay, all I have to do is turn around, all I have...". It was then that he realized to himself that he was not shaking because of fear, but the room's temperature had dropped dramatically. "sh*t, it felt like I was diving in the Southern Atlantic without my wetsuit." he would recount later to his mates in the bar at Oranjemund.
The chilling coldness felt unnatural, a coldness that seemed threatening, together with the feeling that somebody was standing directly behind him, intensified as the lingering dampness caused his teeth to start chattering......"Just turn around, just do it!", he repeated to himself....
After a brief mental battle with his inner conscience, he eventually brought his courage to the fore, he started to slowly turn his body towards the presence in the room, when like a bullet shooting through his leg, he felt an ice cold hand grip his left exposed calf. He instinctively turned to look at his leg, at the same time realizing that even though the sensation that his leg was being held, there was nobody there.... The suffocating fear was overwhelming, he never remembered it happening, but every muscle in his sweating body, had enough pure adrenalin saturating through them to catapult his body, headfirst off the damp bed and through the electric air into the direction of the partially opened door.
Like an escaping rabbit trying to burrow into it's warren, he clawed on all trembling fours for the safety of the wooden door, gasping he squeezed through into the hallway as an ear piercing screech emanated from behind him. He raised himself up and started to descend the rickety staircase. As water would thunder down a wild waterfall, he crashed down onto the ground floor and headed for the front door. Turning the brass doorknob, he opened the creaking door....he exited that disturbed building and entered into the cool desert night, celestial stars spread out in every direction, the night sky ever absorbing his rancid fear. He stumbled to a stop barely fifteen meters from the luminated house, turning around he looked back..... the bedroom window still sealed closed, radiated a yellowish hue as the generator spluttered and then caught it's breath, continuing to play it's familiar diesel tune to the barren silent night
(http://i295.photobucket.com/albums/mm148/mortymoose/JimMurrayatEbayinthe60s.jpg)
The heat that had smothered the barren desert during the day had by now evaporated into the darkened heavens. Cold Atlantic sea air rapidly moved in from the west. Jim shivered, down towards the beach a lone strandwolf let out a menacing howl. "I can't stay out here the whole night!" , he thought to himself... The building seemed at peace with itself once again. Nothing appeared to be moving inside.
It was a good two hours later and with the motivation of the strandwolf, that had now appeared within view of Jim, that he eventually decided to enter the warm, illuminated building. Slowly he stepped through the wooden front door. Glancing up at the staircase, he knew that there was no way that he would be heading upstairs that weekend. He would just have to wait until the rest of the crew returned from their party weekend down in Oranjemund. He felt tired, very tired and to an extent nausea's too. He went cautiously through to the tidy kitchen and proceeded to boil some water on the gas stove. He good cup of hot coffee with a generous drop of highland whisky would warm him up and to an extent help calm his racing mind.
The coffee was stronger than normal, but this was understandable. As he sipped each sweet drop, he kept glancing towards the ceiling, reassuring himself that there was no noise upstairs. The solitary light in the centre of the kitchen dimmed as the the generator, out in the yard sounded it's familiar splutter and then continued to reverberate in it's normal manner.
The whisky in the coffee started to numb Jim's exhausted body, his thoughts began to cloud over as he poured another triple tot of whisky into the next cup of coffee. He added a spoonful of milk powder, stirred the alcoholic beverage and slouched through to the lounge.
swim
Whoa!!!
Well done .. oh eloquent storyteller .. continue ... indeed interesting ..
Do you think we'll get some more.........after all, he didn't write - 'THE END'
For those of you who are coming to the reunion, I am hoping to get Jim and Gloria here...then you can hear for yourself how this "old" timer can spin the yarn!
...and thanks to the generosity of Tom Parkhill...Jim and GLoria will now be attending the reunion.....SO you can hear all the tales straight from the horse's mouth!
msn emoticon (9)