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Reibus

I love language, I love what you can do with it, I love learning new words, finding the origins of old idioms, discovering new writers and seeing how they put their stories together. I love colloquialisms, localisms, vernacularisms and jargon! I love how every reader has a different visualisation of a writers' words. I hope you will enjoy the images the words paint within you.

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February 19, 2022

Quotes

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Sinister sickness

October 18, 2015

Anita felt very grumpy. She had to go up to the local hospital for another test, but she didn’t really believe that they would find anything unless they did the real tests. She knew, she thought she did, what might be in her body, but she had sighed, got frustrated, even got angry, when she’d been up there before. No, they didn’t find anything, and yet she could tell them why her stomach was painful, why she had backaches, why her legs cramped, why there were hours when she couldn’t even see. Every single day she woke up early in the morning in pain, curled up with her stomach feeling like it was due to burst out, her head feeling like a migraine after putting up with the rest of her body for so long – and she believed that! She would lie on her side and concentrate on breathing in, breathing out, long slow breaths which she hoped, every day, would relieve her pain at least a little bit. It was a week since she’d last gone up to the hospital, to Emergency. She’d given them her ...

Thanks, Pop

September 09, 2017

September 2017 - Often nowadays I forget to write. I haven't written in any of my blogs for a while, and I haven't written a short story - until now, when I joined a Bachelor of Arts group through OUA and for Griffith University. My major will be "Creative Writing" - if I can do that! This prose is not a short story, but tells how my Pops got me to love reading. From that, I wrote. My grandfather was a reader. He loved books and I became enchanted with them when I discovered his bookshelves hidden behind the huge couch. Before he taught me about his own books, he bought a book each for me and my brother and sisters every birthday and every Christmas. I remember that Enid Blyton's The Children of the Cherry Farm (1940) and The Magic Faraway Tree (1943) were written before I was born, but I didn't read them until I was a preteen: around 9 or 10. Dymocks' recent book page overview describes The Magic Faraway Tree in these words: "escape from th...