True stories and stories of Advice:
LOL! LOve this pic! How about you? k so here are some stories:
Story 1:
I was always a little in awe of Great-aunt Stephina Roos.
Indeed, as children we were all frankly terrified of her. The fact that she did
not live with the family, preferring her tiny cottage and solitude to the
comfortable but rather noisy household where we were brought up - added to the
respectful fear in which she was held.
We used to take turns to carry small
delicacies which my mother had made down from the big house to the little
cottage where Aunt Stephia and an old colored maid spent their days. Old Tnate
Sanna would open the door to the rather frightened little messenger and would
usher him - or her - into the dark voor-kamer, where the
shutters were always closed to keep out the heat and the
flies. There we would wait while trembling but not altogether unpleasant.
She was a tiny little woman to inspire so much veneration. She was always
dressed in black, and her dark clothes melted into the shadows of the
voor-kamer and made her look smaller than ever. But you feel it the moment she
entered. The feeling is something vital and strong and somehow indestructible
had come in with her. This was despite the fact that she moved slowly and her
voice was sweet and soft.
She never embraced us. She would greet us and take
out hot little hands in her own beautiful cool one with blue veins standing out
on the back of it, as though the white skin were almost too delicate to contain
them.
Tante Sanna would bring in dishes that comprises of very sweet sticky candy
or a great bowl of grapes or peaches and Great-aunt Stephina would converse
gravely about happenings on the farm ,and, more rarely, of the outer world.
When we had finished our sweetmeats or fruit she
would accompany us to the stoep, bidding us goodbye and reminding us to thank our
mother for her gift and sending quaint,
old-fashioned messages to her and father. Then she
would turn and enter the house, closing the door behind so that it became once
more a place of mystery.
As I grew older, I found rather to my surprise that I had become genuinely
fond of my aloof old great-aunt. But to this day, I do not know what strange
impulse made me take George to see her and to tell her of our engagement before
I had confided in another living soul. To my astonishment, she was
delighted.
"An Englishman," she exclaimed.
"But that is splendid,
splendid. And you," she turned to George,
"You are making your
home in this country? You do not intend to
return to England just yet?"
She seemed relieved when she
heard that George had bought a farm near our own farm and intended to settle
down in South Africa. She became quite animated and chattered away with him.
She was somewhat disappointed on hearing that we had decided to wait for two
years before getting married. However, when she learned that my father and
mother were both pleased with the arrangement, she seemed reassured.
Still, she often appeared anxious about my love affair and would ask
questions that seemed to me strange, almost as though she feared that something
would happen to destroy my romance. But I was
quite unprepared for her outburst when I mentioned that George thought of
paying a lightning visit to England before we were married.
"He must not do
it," she cried.
"Ina, you must not let him go. Promise me you will prevent
him." She was trembling all over. I did what I could to console her, but she
looked so tired and pale that I persuaded her to
go to her room and rest, promising to
return the next day.
When I arrived, I found her sitting on the stoep. She looked lonely and
pathetic, and for the first time I wondered why no man had ever taken her and
looked after her and loved her. Mother had told me that Great-aunt Stephina had
been lovely as a young girl and although no trace of that beauty remained,
except perhaps in her brown eyes, she still looked so small and appealing that any man would have
wanted to protect her.
She paused, as though she did not quite know how to begin. Then she seemed to
mentally give herself a little shake.
"You must have wondered ", she said,
"Why I was so upset at the thought of young George's going to England
without you. I am an old woman, and perhaps I have the silly fancies of the
old, but I should like to tell you my own love story and then you can decide
whether it is wise for your man to leave you before you are married."
"I was quite a young girl when I first met Richard Weston. He was an
Englishman who boarded with the Van Rensburgs on the next farm four or five
miles from us. Richard was not strong. He had a weak chest and the doctors had
sent him to South Africa so that the dry air
could cure him. He taught the Van Rensburg children who were younger than I was
although we often played together. He did this for pleasure and not because he
needed money."
"We loved one another from the first
moment we met though we did not speak of our love until the
evening of my eighteenth birthday. All our friends and relatives had come to my
party and in the evening, we danced on the big old carpet which we had laid
down in the barn. Richard had come with the Van Rensburgs and we danced
together as often as we dared, which was not very often, for my father hated
the Uitlanders. Indeed, there was a time he had quarreled with Mynheer Van
Rensburg for allowing Richard to board with him but he soon got used to the idea
and was always polite to the Englishman. Father never liked him."
"That was the happiest birthday of my life. While we were resting between
dances, Richard took me outside into the cool moonlit night, and there under
the stars, he told me he loved me and asked me to marry him. Of course I
promised I would for I was too happy to think of what my parents would say or
indeed of anything. However, Richard was not at our meeting place as he had
arranged. I was disappointed but not alarmed, for so many things could happen
to either of us to prevent us from keeping our tryst. I thought that the next
time we visited the Van Ransburgs, I should ask him what had kept him so we
could plan further meetings…"
"So when my father asked if I would drive with him to Driefontein, I was
delighted. But when we reached the homestead and were sitting on the stoep drinking
our coffee, we heard that Richard had left quite suddenly and had gone back to
England. His father had died and he was now the heir and must go back to look
after his estates."
"I do not remember very much more about that day except that the sun seemed
to have stopped shining and the country no longer looked beautiful and full of
promise, but bleak and desolate as it sometimes does in winter or in times of
drought. Late that afternoon, Jantje, the little Hottentot herd boy, came up to
me and handed me a letter. He told me the English baas had left it for me. It
was the only love letter I ever received but it turned all my bitterness and
grief into a peacefulness which was the nearest I could get then, to happiness.
I knew Richard still loved me and somehow, as long as I had his letter, I felt
that we could never really be parted even if he was in England and I had to
remain on the farm. I have it yet with me, and even though I am an old tired
woman, it still gives me hope and courage."
"It must have been a wonderful letter, Aunt Stephia," I said. The old lady
came back from her dreams of that far-off romance.
"Perhaps," she said,
hesitating a little,
"Perhaps you would care to read it my dear?"
"I
should love to, Aunt Stephia," I said gently. She rose at once and tripped into
the house as eagerly as a young girl. When she came back, she handed me a
letter that is faded and yellow with age, the edges of the envelope worn and frayed as though it had been
much handled. But when I came to open it, I found that the seal was
unbroken.
"Open it, open it," said Great-aunt Stephia, and her voice was
shaking. I broke the seal and read.
It was not a love letter in the true sense of the word but pages of minutest
directions on how "My sweetest Phina" was to
elude her father's vigilance, creep down to the
drift at night and meet Jantje there with a horse which would
take her to Smitsdorp. There she was to go to "My true friend, Henry Wilson",
who would give her money and make arrangements for her to
follow her lover to Cape Town and from there to England," where they can be
married at once.
The letter was followed by a final paragraph that says, "But if, my dearest,
you are not sure that you can face a land strange to you with me, then do not
take this important step for I love you too much to wish you the smallest
unhappiness. If you do not come and if I do not hear from you, then I shall
know that you could never be happy so far from the people and the country which
you love. If however you feel you can keep your promise to me, but is too timid
and scared of a journey to England unaccompanied, then please write to me and I will by some means, return to fetch my bride."
I read no further.
"But Aunt Phina!" I gasped.
"Why…why…?" The old
lady was watching me with trembling eagerness,
her face flushed and her eyes bright with expectation.
"Read it aloud, my
dear," She said.
"I want to hear every word of it. There was never anyone I
could trust… Uitlanders were hated in my young days… I could not ask
anyone."
"But, Auntie, don't you even know what he wrote?" The old lady
looked down, troubled and shy like a child who has unwittingly done
wrong.
"No, dear," she said, speaking in a very low voice.
"You see, I
never learned to read."
Story 2: Alyssa's Story-
I was a girl at Canyon Springs. Fifth grade and Fourth grade. Well the end of 5th grade I switched schools. But I was still in a relationship with Tyler Melton. For 2 Valentines Days he gave me something amazing then I gave something LESS amazing back. But when I left I broke up with him because there might be someone at this new school that I liked more. It turned out right. The first person was Andrew. He was in my High Math class. We dated for a couple months, but one day I broke up with him. See my friend was dating someone after the winter dance. His name was Jesse. He wanted to ask me out. Then, there was this other guy that liked me (I can't mention his name because he didn't want me to tell anyone). Next, there was Logan. I asked all the boys to rate me on a liking scale from 1-T
The picture up there is true...But me and Jesse are going to try and date for a while....But here are my signs that you are falling in love:
1. the list up there...LOL
2. You want to squeeze them(hug) so much you are always wanted to hug someone and tell them you love them.
3. (If in relationship) You say Goodnight Sweetheart every night to them.(True story for me)
But I am a little down that Jesse can't go to the dance. He says the days plans might be canceled.(Yeah!!!)
It is called the Sweetheart dance(Me and Jesse's story(says goodnight sweetheart to me every night))
I hope it is canceled:
Day: 2/15/2013
I hope this story was useful.....
Story 3:
Story 1:
I was always a little in awe of Great-aunt Stephina Roos.
Indeed, as children we were all frankly terrified of her. The fact that she did
not live with the family, preferring her tiny cottage and solitude to the
comfortable but rather noisy household where we were brought up - added to the
respectful fear in which she was held.
We used to take turns to carry small
delicacies which my mother had made down from the big house to the little
cottage where Aunt Stephia and an old colored maid spent their days. Old Tnate
Sanna would open the door to the rather frightened little messenger and would
usher him - or her - into the dark voor-kamer, where the
shutters were always closed to keep out the heat and the
flies. There we would wait while trembling but not altogether unpleasant.
She was a tiny little woman to inspire so much veneration. She was always
dressed in black, and her dark clothes melted into the shadows of the
voor-kamer and made her look smaller than ever. But you feel it the moment she
entered. The feeling is something vital and strong and somehow indestructible
had come in with her. This was despite the fact that she moved slowly and her
voice was sweet and soft.
She never embraced us. She would greet us and take
out hot little hands in her own beautiful cool one with blue veins standing out
on the back of it, as though the white skin were almost too delicate to contain
them.
Tante Sanna would bring in dishes that comprises of very sweet sticky candy
or a great bowl of grapes or peaches and Great-aunt Stephina would converse
gravely about happenings on the farm ,and, more rarely, of the outer world.
When we had finished our sweetmeats or fruit she
would accompany us to the stoep, bidding us goodbye and reminding us to thank our
mother for her gift and sending quaint,
old-fashioned messages to her and father. Then she
would turn and enter the house, closing the door behind so that it became once
more a place of mystery.
As I grew older, I found rather to my surprise that I had become genuinely
fond of my aloof old great-aunt. But to this day, I do not know what strange
impulse made me take George to see her and to tell her of our engagement before
I had confided in another living soul. To my astonishment, she was
delighted.
"An Englishman," she exclaimed.
"But that is splendid,
splendid. And you," she turned to George,
"You are making your
home in this country? You do not intend to
return to England just yet?"
She seemed relieved when she
heard that George had bought a farm near our own farm and intended to settle
down in South Africa. She became quite animated and chattered away with him.
She was somewhat disappointed on hearing that we had decided to wait for two
years before getting married. However, when she learned that my father and
mother were both pleased with the arrangement, she seemed reassured.
Still, she often appeared anxious about my love affair and would ask
questions that seemed to me strange, almost as though she feared that something
would happen to destroy my romance. But I was
quite unprepared for her outburst when I mentioned that George thought of
paying a lightning visit to England before we were married.
"He must not do
it," she cried.
"Ina, you must not let him go. Promise me you will prevent
him." She was trembling all over. I did what I could to console her, but she
looked so tired and pale that I persuaded her to
go to her room and rest, promising to
return the next day.
When I arrived, I found her sitting on the stoep. She looked lonely and
pathetic, and for the first time I wondered why no man had ever taken her and
looked after her and loved her. Mother had told me that Great-aunt Stephina had
been lovely as a young girl and although no trace of that beauty remained,
except perhaps in her brown eyes, she still looked so small and appealing that any man would have
wanted to protect her.
She paused, as though she did not quite know how to begin. Then she seemed to
mentally give herself a little shake.
"You must have wondered ", she said,
"Why I was so upset at the thought of young George's going to England
without you. I am an old woman, and perhaps I have the silly fancies of the
old, but I should like to tell you my own love story and then you can decide
whether it is wise for your man to leave you before you are married."
"I was quite a young girl when I first met Richard Weston. He was an
Englishman who boarded with the Van Rensburgs on the next farm four or five
miles from us. Richard was not strong. He had a weak chest and the doctors had
sent him to South Africa so that the dry air
could cure him. He taught the Van Rensburg children who were younger than I was
although we often played together. He did this for pleasure and not because he
needed money."
"We loved one another from the first
moment we met though we did not speak of our love until the
evening of my eighteenth birthday. All our friends and relatives had come to my
party and in the evening, we danced on the big old carpet which we had laid
down in the barn. Richard had come with the Van Rensburgs and we danced
together as often as we dared, which was not very often, for my father hated
the Uitlanders. Indeed, there was a time he had quarreled with Mynheer Van
Rensburg for allowing Richard to board with him but he soon got used to the idea
and was always polite to the Englishman. Father never liked him."
"That was the happiest birthday of my life. While we were resting between
dances, Richard took me outside into the cool moonlit night, and there under
the stars, he told me he loved me and asked me to marry him. Of course I
promised I would for I was too happy to think of what my parents would say or
indeed of anything. However, Richard was not at our meeting place as he had
arranged. I was disappointed but not alarmed, for so many things could happen
to either of us to prevent us from keeping our tryst. I thought that the next
time we visited the Van Ransburgs, I should ask him what had kept him so we
could plan further meetings…"
"So when my father asked if I would drive with him to Driefontein, I was
delighted. But when we reached the homestead and were sitting on the stoep drinking
our coffee, we heard that Richard had left quite suddenly and had gone back to
England. His father had died and he was now the heir and must go back to look
after his estates."
"I do not remember very much more about that day except that the sun seemed
to have stopped shining and the country no longer looked beautiful and full of
promise, but bleak and desolate as it sometimes does in winter or in times of
drought. Late that afternoon, Jantje, the little Hottentot herd boy, came up to
me and handed me a letter. He told me the English baas had left it for me. It
was the only love letter I ever received but it turned all my bitterness and
grief into a peacefulness which was the nearest I could get then, to happiness.
I knew Richard still loved me and somehow, as long as I had his letter, I felt
that we could never really be parted even if he was in England and I had to
remain on the farm. I have it yet with me, and even though I am an old tired
woman, it still gives me hope and courage."
"It must have been a wonderful letter, Aunt Stephia," I said. The old lady
came back from her dreams of that far-off romance.
"Perhaps," she said,
hesitating a little,
"Perhaps you would care to read it my dear?"
"I
should love to, Aunt Stephia," I said gently. She rose at once and tripped into
the house as eagerly as a young girl. When she came back, she handed me a
letter that is faded and yellow with age, the edges of the envelope worn and frayed as though it had been
much handled. But when I came to open it, I found that the seal was
unbroken.
"Open it, open it," said Great-aunt Stephia, and her voice was
shaking. I broke the seal and read.
It was not a love letter in the true sense of the word but pages of minutest
directions on how "My sweetest Phina" was to
elude her father's vigilance, creep down to the
drift at night and meet Jantje there with a horse which would
take her to Smitsdorp. There she was to go to "My true friend, Henry Wilson",
who would give her money and make arrangements for her to
follow her lover to Cape Town and from there to England," where they can be
married at once.
The letter was followed by a final paragraph that says, "But if, my dearest,
you are not sure that you can face a land strange to you with me, then do not
take this important step for I love you too much to wish you the smallest
unhappiness. If you do not come and if I do not hear from you, then I shall
know that you could never be happy so far from the people and the country which
you love. If however you feel you can keep your promise to me, but is too timid
and scared of a journey to England unaccompanied, then please write to me and I will by some means, return to fetch my bride."
I read no further.
"But Aunt Phina!" I gasped.
"Why…why…?" The old
lady was watching me with trembling eagerness,
her face flushed and her eyes bright with expectation.
"Read it aloud, my
dear," She said.
"I want to hear every word of it. There was never anyone I
could trust… Uitlanders were hated in my young days… I could not ask
anyone."
"But, Auntie, don't you even know what he wrote?" The old lady
looked down, troubled and shy like a child who has unwittingly done
wrong.
"No, dear," she said, speaking in a very low voice.
"You see, I
never learned to read."
Story 2: Alyssa's Story-
I was a girl at Canyon Springs. Fifth grade and Fourth grade. Well the end of 5th grade I switched schools. But I was still in a relationship with Tyler Melton. For 2 Valentines Days he gave me something amazing then I gave something LESS amazing back. But when I left I broke up with him because there might be someone at this new school that I liked more. It turned out right. The first person was Andrew. He was in my High Math class. We dated for a couple months, but one day I broke up with him. See my friend was dating someone after the winter dance. His name was Jesse. He wanted to ask me out. Then, there was this other guy that liked me (I can't mention his name because he didn't want me to tell anyone). Next, there was Logan. I asked all the boys to rate me on a liking scale from 1-T
The picture up there is true...But me and Jesse are going to try and date for a while....But here are my signs that you are falling in love:
1. the list up there...LOL
2. You want to squeeze them(hug) so much you are always wanted to hug someone and tell them you love them.
3. (If in relationship) You say Goodnight Sweetheart every night to them.(True story for me)
But I am a little down that Jesse can't go to the dance. He says the days plans might be canceled.(Yeah!!!)
It is called the Sweetheart dance(Me and Jesse's story(says goodnight sweetheart to me every night))
I hope it is canceled:
Day: 2/15/2013
I hope this story was useful.....
Story 3:
Those are all the stories I have now...