We publish writing by course participants on a regular basis in the spirit of sharing life experiences with others. Each piece is original work by Life Righting Collective course participants – from the pen and from the heart. We want to showcase authentic voices that we hope will inspire you to write your own stories and buy our anthology, This is How It Is, as well as other books by our members. Scroll down to read our stories.

THE ETERNAL MOURNING FOR CHILDHOOD & HOME

THE ETERNAL MOURNING FOR CHILDHOOD I remember a girl with two suns glowing in her cheeks, curls sprouting from her scalp like flowers. Her eyes would swim with the tears of kindness, as bright as [...]

AIDAN THE VANISHING CHILD

Having settled one-year-old Erik for his rest, I went to find Aidan. I unsuccessfully hunted the house, then into the garden I walked, calling and looking. In the middle of a newly-dug flower [...]

POWERPLAY

The moment my dad walked in through the front door after a long stressful day at work, David ran down the passage shouting with excitement “Dad! Dad! I got in, I got accepted!” “You can just [...]

THE VOICE

Nineteen eighty seven was a special year. We would be going to high school for standard eight up to matric. It was also the year that I came to know The Voice. Like most of my classmates, I was [...]

THEN & NOW – A Sonnet

heady syringas               a garden in spring a rhythmic mantra that the train tracks sing amo   amas   amat                     as in a trance they kiss entwined           under a rising moon [...]

MAMA’S NECKLACE

The smell of ginger biscuits met me at the door as I entered the house. ‘Mama!’ I called. I ran to the kitchen, but couldn’t find her there. ‘I’m here, dear,’ she called from the bedroom.  As her [...]

GREEN STREET GUNS

Christopher Robin and I decided to go to town. We had to buy revolvers and Christopher Robin knew where to get them. Although the place was only a mile or so from where we lived, it was a long [...]

GRAN

She takes my hand, sits me down outside the kitchen, on the step cool to the touch, cracked and painted red. Trees arch overhead; she is with me. Her old body is close to mind today. I feel its [...]

HAROLD

Sunday afternoons we’d all go over to Harold’s, the kids squirming against me in the back seat while Dad and Moira sat up front trying to act like it was the weekend. I hated Moira and her brat, [...]

PROLOGUE TO A MEMOIR

This is the prologue for Desiree-Anne Martin’s forthcoming memoir. Words are my drug of choice. They are my refuge; they are my panacea. They are the antidote to the poison that runs [...]

LOKLIED

Ek wou my stad se poorte wyd oopgooi vir jou. Jou bring na my tuin vol lekker ruik kruie. Jou laat drink uit my fontein Vir jou soet wyn en geurige appels voer Maar jou wagte het my gewond. [...]

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