THE GREYTON CLIFFHANGER Part 3 . . . S teady, downstream goes her heart, the past only mattered when she was reminded of the bits that hurt most intensely – in the meantime she
clouds or into the surreal icy stream she soaked her bottom half in… a large hand slightly curled over shoulder and she rather daydreamingly looked over at the warm face with dark eyes that urged her to follow him back to the house… “Another cup of tea?” His voice pleas- antly calm after the day in the sweeping sun. “Yes, with a teaspoon of the honey we bought,” she replied in a tone of utter acceptance – she was here to enjoy each daybreak as much as each noon – for when the sun went to sleep, her head was filled with recurring dreams. Dreams that held the depths of her day, secret feelings that loomed about. Those pangs of the old ways that she let go of in the mornings. The house, the walls, the space all bothered her in the evenings as if each coat of paint or corner with dust some- how hid her memories and only at dusk could these echoes of her past escape. Steady she breathes and slowly she awakes, the bright light already licking the windows. Realising evermore how
found it easy to forget, too easy – as long as she was sat in the cool summer air by a stream that travelled over the pebbles that carried her thoughts far away. This was a visit she couldn’t have avoided either way, even if he had made sure bits of her heart were long-withered – bits and pieces that never really fit quite back together, but had grown back all over the place like a half-left art project, making sure she felt more deeply than most. The coolness, by her feet, was almost too soothing for her. Summer’s light dancing around her held all too much truth - a spell in the air - one that made her for- give all too easily. A pure default, if there ever was one. Afterall, she came this way to make peace with the weeds in her past. She pretend- ed her old memories could float off to just about anywhere – into the phantom
sensitively her heart spoke and how her free-will always led her to the hills and to the trees - where she could lie un- derneath waves of shade and shadows - that understood her in their silent un- wavering and undemanding presence. A heartfelt thank you to Shani as this concludes the final Cliffhanger.
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THE GREYTON POST
JANUARY/FEBRUARY 2026
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