Dianne Neal
Bio
I am a 63 yr old woman who loves to write stories and poetry. I live in Sydney NSW in Australia.
Stories (5)
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Windy Days
How can anyone not love the wind. Oh, I know how unruly it can be, but we depend upon its generosity. Can be used for work, play or simply for survival. Have any of you when young, lay down in the grass and watched how the clouds sail across the sky, like ships racing each other, eager to catch the fastest part of that wind. What fun.
By Dianne Neal4 years ago in Fiction
Depression Eats
Depression used to be a dirty word, put in a closet, so no one is tainted with the knowledge. Admittedly, it has come a long way, but certain people, still think that Depression is a disease, that one can catch it by being in the proximity or hide that a family member has been afflicted.
By Dianne Neal4 years ago in Psyche
Greta’s Story, told by an Extraordinary Cat.
My story in the beginning was very traumatic, very much so. Somebody dumped me in a trash can, leaving me terrified. Can you imagine it, me, in a garbage can. I still shudder thinking about it. Some stranger found me and took me to a place where other animals, of dubious character lived.
By Dianne Neal4 years ago in Fiction
The Homecoming Queen.
I don’t know why my Uncle Clive left me his house in his will to me with all the trappings to go with it. My parents didn’t get on well with him and didn’t have much to say about his past life. Remembering back to my college days, being in love, taking good grades and becoming Homecoming Queen with my first real love. My father, thru his work , transferred to another State. We left, like criminals in the night, no goodbyes for my special love. I don’t see how he could ever forgive me.
By Dianne Neal4 years ago in Fiction
A Hero’s homecoming!
I’ve awaited a long time for this homecoming, being deployed overseas for the last eight months. My kit was packed, just waiting on the word to go. I re-read the letter that had arrived several months ago. The pages were worn, some torn and stuck together with clear tape. Dirty fingerprints covered the letter, imprinting on the pages. I actually kissed and folded it carefully and stuck it in my shirt pocket.
By Dianne Neal4 years ago in Fiction
