RG Hawkshaw
Bio
I'm a writer who loves exploring sci-fi worlds, history, journaling, and the honest lessons of parenting as I experience them. I write to spark curiosity, courage & a sense of wonder... And find old stories from my childhood you might like
Stories (6)
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The Dawn has come... As too the Morning Sickness
Once again, congratulations on being expectant parents. Hip, hip, hooray! Okay, mate, enough with the pleasantries and all that, have you been keeping up with your partner’s needs? Have you been doing all that she asks? Has she asked if you have showered? If you haven’t yet been asked, then that might mean one thing. You are still in the honeymoon stage of pregnancy.
By RG Hawkshaw 4 years ago in Families
What to Expect When She's Expecting. Top Story - April 2022.
Congratulations! You are going to be parents! Good on you two! Okay mate, I’m going to call you mate because mate, things are never going to be the same ever again… And by never again means before the little one or ones arrive.
By RG Hawkshaw 4 years ago in Families
Jumping in & out of a Lucid Dream
Have you ever experienced the wind in your hair as you sail on a yacht through the Caribbean Sea? Sun beating down upon you as you glide through the calm waters, the top sail is taut & the rigging is holding, all is well until you realize you’ve been sailing in a circle. It’s only made worse when you see the Flying Dutchman quickly approaching your yacht – oh wait, it’s an inflatable rubber dingy now and your oar is the length of a school ruler. It’s only made worse when your pet dog has jumped off & is swimming towards a pink fin, b-lining it straight towards you. You paddle madly only to find that you are moving nowhere, stuck in a gravitational pull which confuses & frightens you at the same time. The answer – you are dreaming, well actually, you were as you’ve awoken to a sweaty-brow with all the bed sheets on the other side of the bed.
By RG Hawkshaw 5 years ago in FYI
Forerunner
Somewhere off the coast of New Zealand to the north, amidst the darkness of the early morning, within the heavy fog and rough seas bounces a fishing trawler. Inscribed on the sides of the trawler in gold lettering reads ’Paradise’, a phrase hardly depicting the current environment. Amongst the spray of sea water and swaying crab cages and scurrying fisherman is seaman Daniel Gitkoh, the forerunner of the ’Paradise’. A freshly, stitched scar is seen across his right brow down to his cheek as is a bruised right eye.
By RG Hawkshaw 5 years ago in Journal
From Reign
An outsider, outcast, an alien to society… Overlooked by the rest of this world for the kind of person I was, looked down upon because of the history of my forefathers. We were a proud people once, vibrant, happy, willing to do what was right for others or so I was told. During the time of the Great Vidia, we explored the vast void of space for any other beings like us, beings who shared the same concepts and ideas as our great race. For many years our explorers searched the emptiness of space surrounding our world Reign, with little success it was concluded that we were the only beings within this void. Then from out of nowhere, without warning or any signs of a peaceful meeting, they came… A violent race of beings that saw our world as another colony for their empire. Our leader at the time of the invasion, ‘Doorna Auroralis’ sought to extinguish the monsters from Reign. Rallying all of our greatest warriors we engaged them on the Great Plains of Lalm, but we were no match against their advanced weapons and machines. The Great Elvainan people, regardless of our destined fates continued to fight for the future generations of Reign. But our quest for honour became our downfall, the enemy blaster our cities which stood for millenniums to dust. Leaving no part of our history to be seen for those future generations expect for ash. From the destruction of our cities, they came in numbers storming through our land and taking us captive and off world. That was the story my mother told me before she died here on this curtseyed rock.
By RG Hawkshaw 5 years ago in Futurism
Oliver & the Barn-Owl
It was late in the evening when the crescent moon started to peak through the heavy rain clouds, poking its way to illuminate the damp, wet streets, bushes and buildings below it. The deem orange, green and red coloured lights from the nearby airport, which were constantly on throughout the day and night were more luminescent in after the rain. Smaller lights from security vans driving beside the runways shimmered lightly as the wet spray from their tyres caused a coloured mist of deep-red and warm yellow. Usually, the large planes packed with passengers from overseas travelling over would have their lights beaming across the runway and taxiway. Causing a racquet both visually and audio-wise for any overnight passengers trying to sleep in the nearby hotels. Trying to catch the last bits of sleep before having to wake up that was before the global pandemic. All air traffic had been reduced internationally to barely three planes each day arriving. Even the large freight airline companies had reduced their flights in response to possible quarantining restrictions for pilots. It had been a very usual, disruptive and stressful year when the outbreak happened for many returning travellers. Especially for one returning passenger who was still wide awake in the nearby hotel by the airport, one Oliver Maunu, a return traveller placed in hotel-quarantine from his returning trip aboard in Northern Ireland.
By RG Hawkshaw 5 years ago in Humans
