Story Therapy

As he touches her in a rare and strange encounter, he begins challenging his own assumptions about life. Story By: S A Spencer Photo by  Rajendra Biswal “You remembered me after so long?”  “No.” I look down. “I see you every day when I come out of my home. But I didn’t know you can communicate. Otherwise…” “I don’t. normally. I am a silent spectator of what happens around me.” An unknown fear ripples through my conscious. All private chats between Becky, my wife and me while roaming in our front garden are no more confidential. At least one living being has heard them. What about privacy laws? I stare at my mobile phone for the message that just pinged. ‘ Morning meeting cancelled .’ I had started early than my normal time because of this meeting. I decide to use the rare, but the spare time to engage in this unnatural communication nobody on this earth will accept as true. Chat with the mango tree in my front yard. I am still hesitant if I should do this. Tons of problems have smashed

Follow Me on Facebook Twitter When the couple planned to delay their separation until the eggs hatch, wonder happened.    Story By: S A Spencer “Bubba, look at the couple inside the house, don’t you think they are fighting?” Angel, the wife Fairy Wren, said sitting on the railing of the alfresco of the house in the Western Sydney suburb of Glenwood. “Where?” asked Bubba, her partner, casting a questioning glance at the four-meter-high native bush parallel to the backside fence. “Not at the bush stupid, that one is our home. Humans live in brick structures. Look through that large glass.” She pointed her beak towards the glass window. Bubba hopped and changed his position. A faint bird-smile appeared in his beaks, “Oh, that man and woman? Yes, they’re shouting. But don’t we also shout when we are happy, or celebrate something?” Angel came closer and touched Bubba’s beaks with hers, “I love you, Bubba. You are so naïve. Don’t understand between a joyful shout and f

  By: S A Spencer His love for food came on the way of romance he had. Will migration to another continent help him get both? Picture by  Greg Byman “I will go to Canada for hunting.” Jim said as we both met at the Woodcroft Lake Park during  our morning walk. A huge smile spread across his face. “Oh! Canada! Have a pleasant trip.” I came close to him on the jogging track. “When are you going?” Something inside me showed this wasn’t true. Only yesterday evening, we both were sipping beer at my alfresco after he volunteered to fix our outdoor blind. How suddenly he made such a decision? Overnight? Having the morning walk together was not our routine. We knew each other since the day he moved to the street after building our dream houses. Mine was the first house on the street. Situated fifteen blocks away from my lot, Jim was the second house-owner and my only neighbour for almost six months before any other house came up or even got occupants. “Last night. Hello, how are you?” Jim said