Tag: blogger

365 Days of Writing, 2026 – 231

Day 231 – Writing in the first person

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The Power of “I”: Unlocking the Advantages of the First-Person Novel

When you crack open a novel and the very first word you read is “I,” an unspoken social contract is formed between you and the narrator. You aren’t just an observer looking down from a cloud; you are strapped directly into the passenger seat of someone else’s mind.

First-person point of view (POV) is one of the most intimate and enduring tools in a writer’s arsenal. From classic masterpieces like The Catcher in the Rye and Jane Eyre to modern psychological thrillers like Gone Girl, the “I” narrator has the power to grip readers and refuse to let go.

If you’re an aspiring author trying to decide which POV to use, or a passionate reader wondering why certain books feel so visceral, understanding the advantages of the first-person novel is essential.

Let’s dive deep into the unique strengths of the first-person perspective and why it continues to dominate bestseller lists.

1. Unmatched Intimacy and Emotional Resonance

The single greatest advantage of the first-person novel is proximity. In first-person, there is no filter between the character’s internal emotional landscape and the reader.

  • Direct Access to Thoughts: We don’t just see characters cry; we hear the frantic, self-deprecating, or hopeful loops playing in their heads as they wipe away the tears.
  • Instant Empathy: Even if a narrator makes terrible choices, experiencing their motivations, fears, and heartbreaks firsthand makes them deeply human. We understand why they do what they do, even if we don’t agree with it.

This level of intimacy creates a profound bond. Readers often finish a great first-person novel feeling like they have just said goodbye to a real-life friend.

2. A Distinct, Unforgettable Voice

In a crowded literary marketplace, voice is everything. First-person narrative allows authors to showcase a character’s unique personality not just through their actions, but through how they speak and think.

Think of Holden Caulfield’s cynical, slang-heavy cadence in The Catcher in the Rye, or Humbert Humbert’s hyper-articulate, manipulative prose in Lolita. The narrator’s voice becomes the music of the book.

  • Rhythm and Diction: A weary detective, a sarcastic teenager, and a medieval peasant will all describe a rainy Tuesday differently. First-person forces the writing to be utterly specific to that character’s worldview, elevating the prose and making the storytelling infinitely more textured.

3. The Power of the Unreliable Narrator

One of the most thrilling narrative devices available in fiction is the unreliable narrator—and it only truly works in the first person.

Because we are locked inside one character’s perspective, we are vulnerable to their biases, blind spots, delusions, or outright lies.

  • Building Suspense: When a narrator is convinced of something that the reader slowly realises is false, the tension skyrockets.
  • The “Aha!” Moment: Twists hit harder in first-person because the reader has been actively complicit in believing the narrator’s deception. Think of Gillian Flynn’s Gone Girl, where Nick and Amy Dunne’s conflicting first-person accounts keep readers guessing until the very end.

4. Heightened Suspense and Stakes

When the protagonist is the one telling the story, a very specific rule applies: They survived long enough to tell the tale.

While this might seem like a spoiler (we know the protagonist doesn’t die in chapter three), it actually heightens suspense in clever ways.

  • The “How” Over the “If”: Instead of wondering if the character will survive, the reader wonders how they possibly escaped the nightmare they are currently describing.
  • Subjective Danger: Because we only know what the narrator knows, we are ambushed by plot twists right alongside them. If they can’t see the killer sneaking up behind them in the dark, neither can we.

5. Built-In Focus and Streamlined Pacing

Third-person multi-POV novels can sometimes suffer from narrative bloat as authors jump between five different subplots across different continents. First-person acts as a natural anchor.

  • Laser-Focused Narrative: Everything in a first-person novel filters through the protagonist’s experiences. If they aren’t there to witness it, it doesn’t happen (unless they hear about it secondhand). This keeps the plot tight, fast-paced, and intensely focused on the core conflict.
  • Character-Driven Plots: First-person naturally prioritises internal growth and psychological transformation over sprawling world-building, making it the go-to choice for character-driven stories.

Potential Pitfalls to Keep in Mind

While the advantages are powerful, writing in the first person comes with unique challenges:

  • The “Head-Hopping” Restriction: You cannot show scenes where the protagonist is absent.
  • The “I-Ego” Problem: If your narrator is too passive, whiny, or unlikable without being fascinating, readers will drop the book fast.
  • Information Limits: It can be difficult to naturally reveal things the narrator wouldn’t reasonably know.

However, in the hands of a skilled writer, these limitations often force creative solutions that make the story even stronger.

Conclusion: Is First-Person Right for Your Next Read—or Your Next Book?

The first-person novel is more than just a stylistic choice; it is an immersive experience. It transforms reading from a passive activity into a deeply empathetic, psychological journey. Whether you are looking to get lost in a complex character study, unravel a twisty mystery, or feel the raw electricity of a unique literary voice, the “I” narrator delivers like no other POV can.

Are you a writer planning your next project, or a reader with a favourite first-person novel? Let us know your thoughts in the comments below!

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Top 5 sights on the road less travelled – Perth, Australia

Discover Perth’s Hidden Gems: Top 5 Under-the-Radar Attractions with Unique Charm

Perth, Australia, is often celebrated for its stunning beaches and vibrant culture, but for those seeking quieter, more distinctive experiences, the city and its surroundings harbour lesser-known treasures. These five attractions offer a blend of natural beauty, history, and artistry—without the usual tourist crowds. Perfect for travellers craving serenity and authenticity, here’s where to explore Perth’s hidden side.

1. Bold Park: Eucalyptus Groves and Botanical Wonders

Tucked between the Swan River and the Darling Scarp, Bold Park is a sprawling oasis of 580 hectares of native flora, walking trails, and historic landmarks. While it’s larger than many realize, its size ensures it’s often overlooked by the average tourist. Wander through ancient jarrah and marri forests, or stroll the Daly-Douglas Bridge for panoramic views of the river. The park’s crowning jewel is the Botanic Garden and Perth Zoo, but venture deeper for peaceful spots like the Chinese Garden of Friendship—a tranquil blend of art and horticulture. Bold Park is perfect for picnics, birdwatching, and immersing yourself in WA’s unique ecosystem.

2. South Perth Foreshore: Scenic River Serenity

Just a stone’s throw from the city centre, the South Perth Foreshore offers a picturesque riverside escape. This 2.5-kilometre promenade along the Swan River is ideal for a leisurely walk or bike ride, with breathtaking bridges, art installations, and sweeping views of the city skyline. Unlike the busier northern foreshore, this area is rarely packed, making it a prime spot for yoga, photography, or a quiet sunset. Don’t miss the Hassell Bridge at dusk—its illuminated arches reflect beautifully on the water, creating a postcard-perfect scene.

3. Karrakatta Cemetery: A Garden of History

Step into the past at Karrakatta Cemetery, WA’s original burial ground and a living museum of colonial history. Established in 1829, this peaceful garden cemetery is the resting place of Western Australia’s founding figures, including Premier John Forrest and pioneering women like Lady Frederick Broome. Its serene paths and historic monuments offer a unique glimpse into the region’s past. The cemetery’s ornate design and lush greenery make it a fitting tribute to those who shaped Perth. It’s also a birdwatcher’s haven, with native species thriving in the quiet environment.

4. Perth Institute of Contemporary Arts (PICA): Modern Art with a Side of Serenity

For art lovers, PICA is a must-visit. Located in the heart of Perth, this contemporary art space hosts cutting-edge exhibitions, performances, and installations that often fly under the radar of typical tourist itineraries. The venue’s sleek architecture and thoughtfully curated collections create an atmosphere that’s both inspiring and understated. PICA’s indoor-outdoor spaces and rooftop views of the city add to its charm. With smaller crowds than the Art Gallery of WA, it’s a perfect spot to engage with Australia’s modern art scene at your own pace.

5. Kings Park’s Secret Spots: Beyond the Main Attractions

While Kings Park is Perth’s largest park and a major draw for wildflower season, its lesser-known nooks remain uncrowded. Skip the main lawns and trek to the Pinjarra Hills for peaceful bushwalking or the Garden of Resilience, a 1.5-hectare native plant garden showcasing WA’s environmental efforts. The Culturama (open for three months each spring) offers interactive Indigenous art workshops and a cultural hub with a relaxed vibe. These hidden corners of Kings Park provide a chance to connect with nature and local heritage without the crowds.

Why Explore These Gems?

Perth’s less-crowded attractions often highlight the city’s unique identity—whether through history, art, or natural beauty. By venturing beyond the usual spots, travellers can experience a more intimate side of Western Australia, free from the hustle and bustle of mainstream tourism.

Next time you’re in Perth, take the path less travelled. Discover where eucalyptus groves meet contemporary art, and history mingles with serene landscapes. These hidden spots not only showcase the city’s diversity but also reinforce why Perth is more than just a gateway to the West Australian coast—it’s a destination with layers waiting to be uncovered.

Have you visited any of these underrated attractions? Share your favourite hidden gems in the comments below! 🌿✨

Top 5 sights on the road less travelled – Harare

Hidden Gems of Harare: 5 Unique and Uncrowded Tourist Attractions You Shouldn’t Miss

When most travellers think of Zimbabwe, destinations like Victoria Falls, Hwange National Park, or Great Zimbabwe often dominate the conversation. But the vibrant capital city of Harare, often overlooked, holds its own with a blend of culture, natural beauty, and quiet charm. While many tourists rush through Harare on their way to other destinations, those who pause to explore will discover a city brimming with understated elegance and off-the-beaten-path experiences.

If you’re looking to escape the crowds and soak in Harare’s authentic spirit, here are five distinctive yet seldom-crowded tourist attractions that offer something truly special:

1. Harare Gardens (Botanical Garden)

Tucked away in the heart of the city, Harare Gardens—also known as the National Botanic Garden—is a serene 47-hectare oasis bursting with indigenous flora, tranquil ponds, and shaded pathways. Despite its central location, it remains one of the city’s best-kept secrets, often visited more by locals taking their morning strolls than by international tourists.

Why It Stands Out:
Home to over 900 plant species, including ancient baobabs and flame trees that bloom spectacularly in November, the gardens are a haven for birdwatchers and photographers. The rose garden and the peaceful duck pond add a romantic touch, perfect for quiet reflection or a peaceful picnic. On weekends, you might catch local musicians or art displays, adding a cultural flair.

Pro Tip: Visit early morning to enjoy the misty atmosphere and catch glimpses of sunbirds flitting between blossoms.

2. The Kopje: A Geological Wonder in the City

Perched atop a granite hill in the suburb of Mount Pleasant, The Kopje is a natural rock formation and one of Harare’s oldest geological landmarks. It’s a short, moderately steep hike (around 20 minutes) that rewards adventurers with panoramic views of the city and surrounding highlands.

Why It Stands Out:
Beyond the scenic vista, The Kopje is rich in history and geology. The massive granite boulders—some balancing precariously on others—were formed over 2.6 billion years ago. Look closely, and you’ll spot ancient rock carvings that hint at early human settlement. The site is sacred to some Zimbabweans and exudes a rare sense of stillness and spiritual energy.

Pro Tip: Bring sturdy shoes and a camera. Golden hour here offers some of the most breathtaking cityscape views with minimal foot traffic.

3. Chapungu Sculpture Park

A tribute to Zimbabwe’s renowned Shona sculpture tradition, Chapungu Sculpture Park in Borrowdale is a sprawling green space adorned with over 100 stone masterpieces. Despite its artistic significance, it remains refreshingly uncrowded, offering a tranquil space to appreciate the country’s rich sculptural heritage.

Why It Stands Out:
Each sculpture tells a story—some spiritual, some whimsical, all deeply connected to Zimbabwean culture and nature. The park is set within beautifully landscaped gardens, with gazebos, lily ponds, and winding paths. It’s an open-air museum where art and nature coexist in harmony.

Pro Tip: Look out for works by master sculptors like Bernard Takawira and Henry Munyaradzi. Guided tours can be arranged to deepen your appreciation of the symbolism behind the art.

4. National Gallery of Zimbabwe

Located in the city centre, the National Gallery is a cultural gem that showcases the best of Zimbabwean and African contemporary art. While it occasionally hosts bustling events, the galleries themselves are usually pleasantly quiet, giving visitors space to truly engage with the artwork.

Why It Stands Out:
The permanent collection includes traditional Shona sculpture, modern paintings, and thought-provoking installations by both emerging and acclaimed artists. The gallery also hosts temporary international exhibitions, film screenings, and artist talks, making it a dynamic cultural hub.

Don’t miss the outdoor sculpture garden and the charming café, which often features live acoustic music on weekends.

Pro Tip: Visit on the first Friday of the month for “First Friday,” a monthly art event with extended hours and special previews—still intimate but lively.

5. Samora Machel Avenue: Heritage & Urban Art Trail

Step off the main tourist routes and explore Samora Machel Avenue—a modest street in the city center that doubles as an open-air gallery of colonial-era architecture and vibrant street art. While not a traditional attraction, its blend of historical preservation and urban expression makes it a unique sight.

Why It Stands Out:
You’ll find beautifully restored Edwardian and Art Deco buildings standing side-by-side with striking murals that reflect Zimbabwe’s liberation history, cultural diversity, and social commentary. It’s a walk through time: from colonial Harare to modern, resilient Zimbabwe.

Pro Tip: Visit mid-morning when natural light hits the murals perfectly. Bring a notebook—this quiet street inspires reflection on art, history, and identity.

Final Thoughts

Harare is more than just a transit city—it’s a destination with a soul. These five hidden attractions offer peace, beauty, and cultural depth without the usual tourist throngs. Whether you’re admiring ancient stone carvings at The Kopje, soaking in the quiet elegance of the botanical gardens, or letting art spark deep conversations at Chapungu, you’ll come away with a richer understanding of Zimbabwe’s capital.

So the next time you’re in Harare, skip the crowded spots and discover the city’s quieter, more authentic side. After all, the best travel memories are often made in the places few others think to go.

365 Days of Writing, 2026 – 231

Day 231 – Writing in the first person

…

The Power of “I”: Unlocking the Advantages of the First-Person Novel

When you crack open a novel and the very first word you read is “I,” an unspoken social contract is formed between you and the narrator. You aren’t just an observer looking down from a cloud; you are strapped directly into the passenger seat of someone else’s mind.

First-person point of view (POV) is one of the most intimate and enduring tools in a writer’s arsenal. From classic masterpieces like The Catcher in the Rye and Jane Eyre to modern psychological thrillers like Gone Girl, the “I” narrator has the power to grip readers and refuse to let go.

If you’re an aspiring author trying to decide which POV to use, or a passionate reader wondering why certain books feel so visceral, understanding the advantages of the first-person novel is essential.

Let’s dive deep into the unique strengths of the first-person perspective and why it continues to dominate bestseller lists.

1. Unmatched Intimacy and Emotional Resonance

The single greatest advantage of the first-person novel is proximity. In first-person, there is no filter between the character’s internal emotional landscape and the reader.

  • Direct Access to Thoughts: We don’t just see characters cry; we hear the frantic, self-deprecating, or hopeful loops playing in their heads as they wipe away the tears.
  • Instant Empathy: Even if a narrator makes terrible choices, experiencing their motivations, fears, and heartbreaks firsthand makes them deeply human. We understand why they do what they do, even if we don’t agree with it.

This level of intimacy creates a profound bond. Readers often finish a great first-person novel feeling like they have just said goodbye to a real-life friend.

2. A Distinct, Unforgettable Voice

In a crowded literary marketplace, voice is everything. First-person narrative allows authors to showcase a character’s unique personality not just through their actions, but through how they speak and think.

Think of Holden Caulfield’s cynical, slang-heavy cadence in The Catcher in the Rye, or Humbert Humbert’s hyper-articulate, manipulative prose in Lolita. The narrator’s voice becomes the music of the book.

  • Rhythm and Diction: A weary detective, a sarcastic teenager, and a medieval peasant will all describe a rainy Tuesday differently. First-person forces the writing to be utterly specific to that character’s worldview, elevating the prose and making the storytelling infinitely more textured.

3. The Power of the Unreliable Narrator

One of the most thrilling narrative devices available in fiction is the unreliable narrator—and it only truly works in the first person.

Because we are locked inside one character’s perspective, we are vulnerable to their biases, blind spots, delusions, or outright lies.

  • Building Suspense: When a narrator is convinced of something that the reader slowly realises is false, the tension skyrockets.
  • The “Aha!” Moment: Twists hit harder in first-person because the reader has been actively complicit in believing the narrator’s deception. Think of Gillian Flynn’s Gone Girl, where Nick and Amy Dunne’s conflicting first-person accounts keep readers guessing until the very end.

4. Heightened Suspense and Stakes

When the protagonist is the one telling the story, a very specific rule applies: They survived long enough to tell the tale.

While this might seem like a spoiler (we know the protagonist doesn’t die in chapter three), it actually heightens suspense in clever ways.

  • The “How” Over the “If”: Instead of wondering if the character will survive, the reader wonders how they possibly escaped the nightmare they are currently describing.
  • Subjective Danger: Because we only know what the narrator knows, we are ambushed by plot twists right alongside them. If they can’t see the killer sneaking up behind them in the dark, neither can we.

5. Built-In Focus and Streamlined Pacing

Third-person multi-POV novels can sometimes suffer from narrative bloat as authors jump between five different subplots across different continents. First-person acts as a natural anchor.

  • Laser-Focused Narrative: Everything in a first-person novel filters through the protagonist’s experiences. If they aren’t there to witness it, it doesn’t happen (unless they hear about it secondhand). This keeps the plot tight, fast-paced, and intensely focused on the core conflict.
  • Character-Driven Plots: First-person naturally prioritises internal growth and psychological transformation over sprawling world-building, making it the go-to choice for character-driven stories.

Potential Pitfalls to Keep in Mind

While the advantages are powerful, writing in the first person comes with unique challenges:

  • The “Head-Hopping” Restriction: You cannot show scenes where the protagonist is absent.
  • The “I-Ego” Problem: If your narrator is too passive, whiny, or unlikable without being fascinating, readers will drop the book fast.
  • Information Limits: It can be difficult to naturally reveal things the narrator wouldn’t reasonably know.

However, in the hands of a skilled writer, these limitations often force creative solutions that make the story even stronger.

Conclusion: Is First-Person Right for Your Next Read—or Your Next Book?

The first-person novel is more than just a stylistic choice; it is an immersive experience. It transforms reading from a passive activity into a deeply empathetic, psychological journey. Whether you are looking to get lost in a complex character study, unravel a twisty mystery, or feel the raw electricity of a unique literary voice, the “I” narrator delivers like no other POV can.

Are you a writer planning your next project, or a reader with a favourite first-person novel? Let us know your thoughts in the comments below!

…

Harry Walthenson, Private Detective – the second case – A case of finding the “Flying Dutchman”

…

What starts as a search for a missing husband soon develops into an unbelievable story of treachery, lies, and incredible riches.

…

It was meant to remain buried long enough for the dust to settle on what was once an unpalatable truth, when enough time had passed, and those who had been willing to wait could reap the rewards.

The problem was, no one knew where that treasure was hidden or the location of the logbook that held the secret.

At stake, billions of dollars’ worth of stolen Nazi loot brought to the United States in an anonymous tramp steamer and hidden in a specially constructed vault under a specifically owned plot of land on the once docklands of New York.

It may have remained hidden and unknown to only a few, if it had not been for a mere obscure detail being overheard …

… by our intrepid, newly minted private detective, Harry Walthenson …

… and it would have remained buried.

Now, through a series of unrelated events, or are they, that well-kept secret is out there, and Harry will not stop until the whole truth is uncovered.

Even if it almost costs him his life.  Again.

365 Days of Writing, 2026 – 230

Day 230 – Writing Exercise

…

The thing about a quiet neighbourhood – houses not built on top of each other, people next door near but far enough away not to be annoying; if they tended to be annoying, is that you could hear the silence.

We had lived there for nearly ten years, the last family to move into the estate that had about twenty families scattered over acreage.  It was one of those miracle moments, a house popping up in my search browser when I put in the parameters.

One house.  This house.  We came, we saw, we met the neighbours.  We bought.  It was like we were meant to live there.

…

Ten years on, our anniversary neighbourhood party had wrapped up at precisely 10 pm as all parties did, and the participants had dispersed, the last straggler just disappearing around the corner, a few hundred yards from home.

I was on the front verandah looking up at the sky filled with stars, some brighter than others, and then, one that appeared to be moving.

My eyes watered, straining to see it. I blinked several times to squeeze the moisture out, opened them again and whatever it was had gone.  Or blended in, so it was just another star.

I had a telescope out back and would go have another look before I turned in.

Edie poked her head out the door.  “You’re probably breaking some community regulation standing out there after 10pm. What are you doing?”

“Testing them.”

It was a running joke.  The neighbourhood had some rather quirky rules, but nothing that caused us concern.  The lady in charge of community watch, as she called it, was due to retire this year, and everyone was waiting for the new guard.

And new rules.  More lenient rules.

“Come in.  It’s cold out there.”

It had got cold, especially in the last few minutes.  I shivered, took a last look out at the sky, then went in.  The auto light switched off.  All was well again.

“What were you doing out there?”

She was closing the shutters on the front windows, and the moonlight that had been seeping through the open blinds disappeared.  Except for the passage light, the house was in darkness.

We had streetlights, but they were so low that the light didn’t reach the ground.  Normal street lights put out a lot of light, enough to see the road, but these were deliberately subdued.

Another quirk produced by our fearless Community Watch leader, who seemed to hold such sway with city hall.

“I’m just going out back to check on a shooting star.  I’ll make a wish.”

“I need a new vehicle “

A quick kiss, a touch of hands, she headed towards the bedroom.  I would be back before she got into bed.

The auto lighting lit the way along the passage floor to the back door.  I went out onto the back patio and saw Jake, youngest son and the family astronomer, had left the telescope pointing in the direction of Mars.

He was obsessed with the belief that Martians were coming to Earth, and was adamant he had seen a ship land nearby last year, just before it switched on its cloud of invisibility.

Jake had an excellent imagination.

He was in the middle of writing his first Sci-Fi novel and had asked me to read some of it.  It was quite good but technical.  I hadn’t the heart to tell him it was so boring it put me to sleep.

I peered into the lens up at the sky and focused on the last position.  It was a bright star among many. And something else.  It seemed to be flashing, or a whole lot of stars were passing it, which made it seem like it was flashing.

Or maybe not.  Nothing was happening.

Just before I went in, I looked up, in time to see a shooting star, or what looked like one, light a path across the sky.

I made a wish, and went to bed.

…

I usually slept like a log.  It had been said that a bomb could go off next door and I’d sleep through it.  While no bombs had exploded, there were a number of events I had missed.

Tonight?  There was no reason why I should be awake, and yet I dozed off the moment my head hit the pillow.  I remember seeing the time on the digital clock beside the bed.  11:03.

I looked now, and it said 1:07.  What felt like five minutes later, it said 1:16.  I did not feel sleepy in the slightest.

Edie was sound asleep, her breathing regular.  It always surprised me how easy it was for her to get to sleep.  Perhaps it was because of the early years with the children and the constant care they needed; she had taught mt herself to get what rest she could, no matter how short it was.

It had never been that easy for me.

It wasn’t the first time I had lain awake for hours, searching for that elusive moment.  I tried counting sheep, green sheep at that; I tried emptying my mind, but that was impossible.

1:38.

I slipped out into the cool night air and padded quietly across the room.  The door made a slight squeak as I opened it a fraction, the noise sounding very loud in that silence that came with the middle of the night.

I stepped into the passage, and the first of the footlights came on to guide the way.  I headed down towards the kitchen, where what I assumed was moonlight came through the open slats of the kitchen windows, filling that room with a pale whitish light.

On the tight hand side, the kitchen being on the left, was the dining room, with floor-to-ceiling windows that opened out onto the veranda that wrapped around the back of the house.

Outside the dining room was where the BBQ sat.

On that side, sitting on the veranda, the view stretched across a number the neighbours back yards that stretched down the the stream that divided pur properties from those on the other side, mostly ranches running either cattle or sheep.

Sometimes you could hear them at night, but mostly during the day.  When they were down in the lower pastures.  At the moment, they were higher up in the hills. 

Come Christmas, the vista from the back verandah would look like a Christmas card scene, one I could never get tired of.

Suddenly the dining room was filled with a very bright light, and it was almost as bright as day.  It lasted a few seconds before it just snapped off like someone had flicked a switch.

I had been almost blinded and couldn’t see anything for at least a few minutes before the inky blackness transformed into blurry shapes.

I crossed to the room and looked out the windows to see what I thought was some sort of vehicle, only it couldn’t be one because it was hovering above the ground.

My eyes were sore from the bright light before, and I think I must be hallucinating.  Under the craft were five figures, not human, and yet human-like, and walking towards them were the five members of the Richards, our next-door neighbours.

I just watched in utter fascination.

They stepped into the pool of very subdued light coming from under the floating vehicle, one by one, touched the hands of the newly arrived people and exchanged shapes.

Then the Richards went back to their house; the other creatures, human or otherwise, held hands and then disappeared.

Seconds later, the searing light reappeared and then was gone.  A second dose of light on my poor eyes looked a few minutes longer, and by the time my sight had returned, it was as if nothing had happened.

What had I just seen?

…

I woke up, and it was light.  Edie was already up and about, and it was just another day.

It didn’t feel like I had been awake for an hour or so, and in my head it felt like something had happened, only I couldn’t remember what.

I wasn’t tired, not like I had been awake half the night because I knew what that was like.

Something had happened.  Something significant, but it was just there, on the fringe of my memory, lurking, or waiting for me to find the right key and unlock that door.

“You going to stay in bed all day?”

Edie put her head in the door, on her way from the front door where she had collected the newspaper, to the kitchen where breakfast would be well underway.

It was just another normal day.

“Coming,,” I muttered.

“You snore.  I never realised it until last night.  You woke me.  Normally I can sleep through anything.”

“I don’t snore.”

“You do.  And talk in your sleep.”

I sat up and faced her.  That was frightening if it was true.  I often dreamed I was having strange conversations with people who were basically strangers, but only once.

“What did I say?”

“Something about old man Richards.  Not surprising you think he’s daft.  He hasn’t been the same since the accident.  Don’t hang about.  We have that appointment at the bank this morning.”

Then she was gone.

Richards.  There was that thing in my mind again, that memory that refused to come out of the vault.  Did it have something to do with Richards?

I shrugged.  It would return when it wanted to.  In the meantime, places to go and people to see.

…

Surprises were good, when they were surprises.  We had decided that after Elizabeth, the eldest daughter, got married, we would buy them a house.

With one thing and another, their six-month jaunt through Europe turned into a five-year work-and-play plan; they only decided to return when she fell pregnant.  Twins and a bot later, the place they were living in was too small, hence the house.

Everything was on track until Elizabeth saw us talking to the bank manager; she just happened to be in the neighbourhood and feared the worst: we had to downsize, or worse.

I was never very good at lying. Edie thought she had it under control, but what mother does with that first daughter.  The secret was barely intact.

Then we ran into the Richards, Bill and Betty.  It wasn’t a usual thing, and I couldn’t remember the last time.  Coming after the Elizabeth thing, I was a little shaken.

That nagging thing in the back of my mind got a bit of a shake.  Both the Richards seemed a little distracted, and Bill didn’t seem to recognise me.  Not at first, and I could see he was trying to cover it like people did when they have forgotten your name.

Betty was chatty, which was a change from her usual surly self; the reason she gave me many years ago was that Bill had dragged her out to this godforsaken place as punishment, though she never said what it was for.

Betty confused me with one of the other neighbours who looked a little like me, which I thought odd, but it wasn’t a thing.  Edie thought they were just the same as usual, vague and borderline rude.

Driving home, my head had got as far as deciding whatever was trying to get out had something to do with the Richards.

…

Once again I spent some time out with the telescope, studying the moon surface, and wondering if I’d live long enough to go there.  Every now and then a billionaire comes up with this idea of a weekend on the moon in a lunar hotel, and I dare to believe it might be possible in my lifetime.

The other day it had moved to Mars.  I’m sure the Martians wouldn’t mind, though I had no idea why I would think that.  It was like the day someone asked me what the Martians looked like, and I said, like us, only with synthetic bodies, so they could live in the atmosphere there.

It got me some very strange looks.

The sky was less crowded with stars, and there were clouds drifting by blocking the view.  It was a full moon, and I had a momentary thought of werewolves.  Not that they existed, but they were a part of folklore.

Then when the cloud cover was too thick, and the first spits of rain came, I went inside, made coffee and went to stand over by the patio windows.

A shard of lightning lit up the back yards of a number of the neighbours’ yards, as bright as day before darkness returned.

The rain became torrential.  The lightning was sporadic, and each time it lit up a different part of the countryside. 

There was a huge rumble just about overhead, followed by a bolt of lightning which, in the fraction of a second as it lit up the scene in front of me, I saw it land on Bill Richards, who had been standing out in his yard.

Another bolt hit our house, and there was a huge explosion.

That was all I remembered.

…

I was lying down in a brightly lit room; on one side, a man in a white coat was looking down at me.  On the other side, Edie was looking concerned.

“He’s been forgetting things, and talking in his sleep.  He hasn’t done that before.”

“It might be the settling process.  Sometimes it takes a few days.  The last upgrade was a little bigger than usual.”

“It worked for me.”

“You’re a 6AZ model.  More sophisticated algorithms because you are female.”

“You’re saying the male units are not as smart.”

What were they talking about?  Models, smart, sophistication.  I was just another person who was suffering from lack of sleep and hallucinations.

At least I think that was what I was there for.  This was a hospital?

Edie glanced at me.  “Oh, you’re awake?”

“That might be a matter of opinion.  I think I just woke in the middle of a nightmare.”

She smiled.  It didn’t fill me with confidence.

“You can’t go around telling people you saw aliens, Sam.  People get antsy when you say stuff like that.”

“I never said I saw aliens. When did I see aliens?”

“You said the Martians had landed next door and took the Richards away.  I mean, Sam, we saw them just a few hours ago.”

I was confused.  I could see in my head the spacecraft that was hovering next door and the body exchange of the Richards family.  I could remember meeting the Richards at the cafe, and how disoriented they had been.

The transfer process had still not been perfected.

Then I realised the truth.

“There it is,” the doctor said.  “It just needed a tweak.”

The doctor stepped away from the console, and I could see the twin flat lines running across the screen.  Memories and reality aligned.

I closed my eyes; everything went dark, and then opened them again.

Edie was looking concerned but relieved.  “How do you feel?”

“About sixty-four, give or take a week.  Getting old is not what it’s cracked up to be.”  I could feel something had happened, but couldn’t quite remember what it was.  “Another fall?”

“You need to remember to use your cane, Sam.  You are not as spry as you used to be.”

“No.  I guess not.”  I slowly got off the bed and stood.  I felt steady.

“Doc?”

“You’ll get there, Sam.  We all do in the end.  Just take care out there.”

“I will.”

Edie took my hand.  “Come on.  Places to go; people to see.”

Funny.  I was thinking that myself.  It was like I was reading her mind.

She opened the door and glared at me as I went past her.

“Don’t,” she said, not in words but in her thoughts.  “I don’t want to go home, so stop being difficult.  Earth is so much better than Mars.”

I looked at her as she followed me out and closed the door.

That doctor was our supervisor and had been assessing me.  The Richards had cracked the week before, and he had them replaced.  We’d be next if I didn’t appear ‘fixed’.

She was right.  Back home we’d be in a factory, chained to a production line.

“Understood.”

“Good.”  Then out loud, for the benefit of those around us.  “I need you because we have a housewarming to plan.  The bank just approved the house purchase.  Elizabeth is going to be so surprised.”

In more ways than one.

…

©  Charles Heath  2026

Top 5 sights on the road less travelled – Harare

Hidden Gems of Harare: 5 Unique and Uncrowded Tourist Attractions You Shouldn’t Miss

When most travellers think of Zimbabwe, destinations like Victoria Falls, Hwange National Park, or Great Zimbabwe often dominate the conversation. But the vibrant capital city of Harare, often overlooked, holds its own with a blend of culture, natural beauty, and quiet charm. While many tourists rush through Harare on their way to other destinations, those who pause to explore will discover a city brimming with understated elegance and off-the-beaten-path experiences.

If you’re looking to escape the crowds and soak in Harare’s authentic spirit, here are five distinctive yet seldom-crowded tourist attractions that offer something truly special:

1. Harare Gardens (Botanical Garden)

Tucked away in the heart of the city, Harare Gardens—also known as the National Botanic Garden—is a serene 47-hectare oasis bursting with indigenous flora, tranquil ponds, and shaded pathways. Despite its central location, it remains one of the city’s best-kept secrets, often visited more by locals taking their morning strolls than by international tourists.

Why It Stands Out:
Home to over 900 plant species, including ancient baobabs and flame trees that bloom spectacularly in November, the gardens are a haven for birdwatchers and photographers. The rose garden and the peaceful duck pond add a romantic touch, perfect for quiet reflection or a peaceful picnic. On weekends, you might catch local musicians or art displays, adding a cultural flair.

Pro Tip: Visit early morning to enjoy the misty atmosphere and catch glimpses of sunbirds flitting between blossoms.

2. The Kopje: A Geological Wonder in the City

Perched atop a granite hill in the suburb of Mount Pleasant, The Kopje is a natural rock formation and one of Harare’s oldest geological landmarks. It’s a short, moderately steep hike (around 20 minutes) that rewards adventurers with panoramic views of the city and surrounding highlands.

Why It Stands Out:
Beyond the scenic vista, The Kopje is rich in history and geology. The massive granite boulders—some balancing precariously on others—were formed over 2.6 billion years ago. Look closely, and you’ll spot ancient rock carvings that hint at early human settlement. The site is sacred to some Zimbabweans and exudes a rare sense of stillness and spiritual energy.

Pro Tip: Bring sturdy shoes and a camera. Golden hour here offers some of the most breathtaking cityscape views with minimal foot traffic.

3. Chapungu Sculpture Park

A tribute to Zimbabwe’s renowned Shona sculpture tradition, Chapungu Sculpture Park in Borrowdale is a sprawling green space adorned with over 100 stone masterpieces. Despite its artistic significance, it remains refreshingly uncrowded, offering a tranquil space to appreciate the country’s rich sculptural heritage.

Why It Stands Out:
Each sculpture tells a story—some spiritual, some whimsical, all deeply connected to Zimbabwean culture and nature. The park is set within beautifully landscaped gardens, with gazebos, lily ponds, and winding paths. It’s an open-air museum where art and nature coexist in harmony.

Pro Tip: Look out for works by master sculptors like Bernard Takawira and Henry Munyaradzi. Guided tours can be arranged to deepen your appreciation of the symbolism behind the art.

4. National Gallery of Zimbabwe

Located in the city centre, the National Gallery is a cultural gem that showcases the best of Zimbabwean and African contemporary art. While it occasionally hosts bustling events, the galleries themselves are usually pleasantly quiet, giving visitors space to truly engage with the artwork.

Why It Stands Out:
The permanent collection includes traditional Shona sculpture, modern paintings, and thought-provoking installations by both emerging and acclaimed artists. The gallery also hosts temporary international exhibitions, film screenings, and artist talks, making it a dynamic cultural hub.

Don’t miss the outdoor sculpture garden and the charming café, which often features live acoustic music on weekends.

Pro Tip: Visit on the first Friday of the month for “First Friday,” a monthly art event with extended hours and special previews—still intimate but lively.

5. Samora Machel Avenue: Heritage & Urban Art Trail

Step off the main tourist routes and explore Samora Machel Avenue—a modest street in the city center that doubles as an open-air gallery of colonial-era architecture and vibrant street art. While not a traditional attraction, its blend of historical preservation and urban expression makes it a unique sight.

Why It Stands Out:
You’ll find beautifully restored Edwardian and Art Deco buildings standing side-by-side with striking murals that reflect Zimbabwe’s liberation history, cultural diversity, and social commentary. It’s a walk through time: from colonial Harare to modern, resilient Zimbabwe.

Pro Tip: Visit mid-morning when natural light hits the murals perfectly. Bring a notebook—this quiet street inspires reflection on art, history, and identity.

Final Thoughts

Harare is more than just a transit city—it’s a destination with a soul. These five hidden attractions offer peace, beauty, and cultural depth without the usual tourist throngs. Whether you’re admiring ancient stone carvings at The Kopje, soaking in the quiet elegance of the botanical gardens, or letting art spark deep conversations at Chapungu, you’ll come away with a richer understanding of Zimbabwe’s capital.

So the next time you’re in Harare, skip the crowded spots and discover the city’s quieter, more authentic side. After all, the best travel memories are often made in the places few others think to go.

Top 5 sights on the road less travelled – Kampala

Kampala’s Secret Side: 5 Uncrowded Spots with Big Character

Kampala. The name itself evokes a symphony of sounds—the friendly calls of vendors, the constant hum of boda bodas, the rhythm of music spilling from roadside bars. It’s a city that vibrates with an infectious energy. But what if you could peel back the layers of that vibrant chaos and find something quieter? Something more intimate?

While the grand mosques and bustling markets rightfully claim their place on any itinerary, Kampala holds a collection of hidden gems. These are the places where history whispers, art breathes, and tranquillity can be found without the jostle of a crowd.

Step off the beaten track and discover five distinctive Kampala attractions that offer a deeper, more personal connection to the heart of Uganda.

1. Kabaka’s Lake: The Royal Oasis

Tucked away in the suburb of Ndeeba, many visitors head straight for the Kasubi Tombs, overlooking this fascinating site just a short distance away. Kabaka’s Lake is one of Kampala’s best-kept secrets and a place of surprising serenity.

Distinctive Feature: This is no ordinary pond. It’s the largest excavated reservoir in the world, dug entirely by hand in the 1880s on the orders of Kabaka Mwanga II. The legend says he intended it to be a channel to the Indian Ocean. While his grand naval ambitions never materialised, the lake remains a remarkable feat of engineering and a tranquil green lung for the city.

Why it’s Not Crowded: It’s a local spot, not packaged heavily for tourist tours. You’ll find joggers, couples on quiet walks, and families enjoying the shade, but rarely large tour groups. It’s a place to breathe and reflect on the ingenuity of Buganda’s history.

Pro-Tip: Visit in the late afternoon. As the sun begins to set, the sky reflects beautifully on the water, and the local community comes to life, offering a perfect blend of nature and authentic city life.

2. The Baháʼí House of Worship: A Sanctuary of Light

Perched on Kikaya Hill, overlooking the city, is the stunning Baháʼí Temple. Known as the Mother Temple of Africa, this architectural masterpiece offers a profound sense of peace that feels a world away from the city’s hustle.

Distinctive Feature: It is the only Baháʼí House of Worship on the entire African continent. Its magnificent, lace-like dome and elegant gardens are designed for quiet meditation and prayer, open to people of all faiths and backgrounds. The interplay of light through the dome and the intricate patterns inside are simply breathtaking.

Why it’s Not Crowded: As a place of worship, its primary function isn’t tourism. Visitors are encouraged to come, sit, and absorb the peaceful atmosphere, which naturally limits the boisterous crowds found at other landmarks.

Pro-Tip: Allow yourself at least an hour. Don’t just take photos from the outside. Enter the main hall, find a seat, and simply enjoy the silence. The surrounding gardens are perfect for a quiet stroll with incredible views of Kampola on a clear day.

3. Nommo Gallery: Uganda’s Artistic Soul

For a dose of culture without the chaos of a hectic market, the Nommo Gallery is an essential stop. Located in a beautiful colonial-era building, it is the oldest and arguably most prestigious art gallery in Uganda.

Distinctive Feature: Run by the Uganda National Cultural Centre, Nommo showcases a diverse and rotating collection of contemporary Ugandan art. From powerful paintings and intricate sculptures to vibrant textiles and jewellery, it is a one-stop shop for understanding the country’s creative pulse. You won’t find mass-produced souvenirs here—only genuine, high-quality art.

Why it’s Not Crowded: Art galleries tend to attract a more contemplative crowd. It’s a serene space where you can take your time, engage with the art, and even chat with the curators or artists who are often on-site.

Pro-Tip: Even if your budget doesn’t stretch to a large painting, consider buying smaller items like prints, postcards, or jewellery. It’s a wonderful way to support local artists directly and take home a truly unique piece of Uganda.

4. Lubiri Mengo & the “Idi Amin” Tunnel: Echoes of History

While the Kasubi Tombs are the regal burial grounds, the Lubiri in Mengo is the Kabaka’s current palace. Much of it is still a functioning royal residence, but guided tours offer a fascinating, and often sobering, glimpse into Uganda’s royal and political past.

Distinctive Feature: The most chilling and memorable part of the tour is the underground tunnel. Allegedly built by Idi Amin during his rule as an escape route and a place to dispose of enemies, the tunnel is a dark, claustrophobic passage that powerfully connects visitors to the country’s more turbulent history. It’s an experience you won’t forget.

Why it’s Not Crowded: Tours are infrequent and must be arranged through a guide at the main gate. This informal system naturally limits the number of visitors. It lacks the infrastructure of a major tourist site, which is precisely part of its raw, authentic appeal.

Pro-Tip: Arrange your tour in advance if possible. Be respectful; this is still a significant cultural and royal site. The stories shared by the guides are often personal and powerful, so listen closely.

5. A Rooftop Vantage Point: Kampala from Above

Sometimes, the best attraction isn’t a building, but a view. Escaping the street-level noise and gaining a new perspective is one of the best ways to appreciate the scale and beauty of Kampala, nestled among its seven hills.

Distinctive Feature: A panoramic, bird’s-eye view of the sprawling city. You can see the red-tiled roofs, green patches of trees, and the distant hills that define Kampala’s landscape. It’s especially magical during the golden hour as the city begins to light up.

Why it’s Not Crowded: While popular, rooftop bars are often relaxed and spacious. The key is to go during an off-peak time, like mid-afternoon for coffee, rather than a Friday night for drinks.

Pro-Tip: Two excellent choices are the rooftop garden at The Emin Pasha Hotel (for a more classic, serene experience) or the top floor of Javas House on Acacia Avenue (Longacres). Grab a coffee, find a comfy seat, and just watch the city breathe below you.

Go Beyond the Postcard

Kampala rewards the curious traveller. By seeking out these quieter corners, you’ll discover a city with a depth and character that goes far beyond the typical tourist trail. You’ll find the soul of Uganda in its serene temples, its hidden history, and its pockets of inspiring peace.

So next time you find yourself in the “City of Seven Hills,” dare to wander. You might be surprised by what you find.

365 Days of Writing, 2026 – 230

Day 230 – Writing Exercise

…

The thing about a quiet neighbourhood – houses not built on top of each other, people next door near but far enough away not to be annoying; if they tended to be annoying, is that you could hear the silence.

We had lived there for nearly ten years, the last family to move into the estate that had about twenty families scattered over acreage.  It was one of those miracle moments, a house popping up in my search browser when I put in the parameters.

One house.  This house.  We came, we saw, we met the neighbours.  We bought.  It was like we were meant to live there.

…

Ten years on, our anniversary neighbourhood party had wrapped up at precisely 10 pm as all parties did, and the participants had dispersed, the last straggler just disappearing around the corner, a few hundred yards from home.

I was on the front verandah looking up at the sky filled with stars, some brighter than others, and then, one that appeared to be moving.

My eyes watered, straining to see it. I blinked several times to squeeze the moisture out, opened them again and whatever it was had gone.  Or blended in, so it was just another star.

I had a telescope out back and would go have another look before I turned in.

Edie poked her head out the door.  “You’re probably breaking some community regulation standing out there after 10pm. What are you doing?”

“Testing them.”

It was a running joke.  The neighbourhood had some rather quirky rules, but nothing that caused us concern.  The lady in charge of community watch, as she called it, was due to retire this year, and everyone was waiting for the new guard.

And new rules.  More lenient rules.

“Come in.  It’s cold out there.”

It had got cold, especially in the last few minutes.  I shivered, took a last look out at the sky, then went in.  The auto light switched off.  All was well again.

“What were you doing out there?”

She was closing the shutters on the front windows, and the moonlight that had been seeping through the open blinds disappeared.  Except for the passage light, the house was in darkness.

We had streetlights, but they were so low that the light didn’t reach the ground.  Normal street lights put out a lot of light, enough to see the road, but these were deliberately subdued.

Another quirk produced by our fearless Community Watch leader, who seemed to hold such sway with city hall.

“I’m just going out back to check on a shooting star.  I’ll make a wish.”

“I need a new vehicle “

A quick kiss, a touch of hands, she headed towards the bedroom.  I would be back before she got into bed.

The auto lighting lit the way along the passage floor to the back door.  I went out onto the back patio and saw Jake, youngest son and the family astronomer, had left the telescope pointing in the direction of Mars.

He was obsessed with the belief that Martians were coming to Earth, and was adamant he had seen a ship land nearby last year, just before it switched on its cloud of invisibility.

Jake had an excellent imagination.

He was in the middle of writing his first Sci-Fi novel and had asked me to read some of it.  It was quite good but technical.  I hadn’t the heart to tell him it was so boring it put me to sleep.

I peered into the lens up at the sky and focused on the last position.  It was a bright star among many. And something else.  It seemed to be flashing, or a whole lot of stars were passing it, which made it seem like it was flashing.

Or maybe not.  Nothing was happening.

Just before I went in, I looked up, in time to see a shooting star, or what looked like one, light a path across the sky.

I made a wish, and went to bed.

…

I usually slept like a log.  It had been said that a bomb could go off next door and I’d sleep through it.  While no bombs had exploded, there were a number of events I had missed.

Tonight?  There was no reason why I should be awake, and yet I dozed off the moment my head hit the pillow.  I remember seeing the time on the digital clock beside the bed.  11:03.

I looked now, and it said 1:07.  What felt like five minutes later, it said 1:16.  I did not feel sleepy in the slightest.

Edie was sound asleep, her breathing regular.  It always surprised me how easy it was for her to get to sleep.  Perhaps it was because of the early years with the children and the constant care they needed; she had taught mt herself to get what rest she could, no matter how short it was.

It had never been that easy for me.

It wasn’t the first time I had lain awake for hours, searching for that elusive moment.  I tried counting sheep, green sheep at that; I tried emptying my mind, but that was impossible.

1:38.

I slipped out into the cool night air and padded quietly across the room.  The door made a slight squeak as I opened it a fraction, the noise sounding very loud in that silence that came with the middle of the night.

I stepped into the passage, and the first of the footlights came on to guide the way.  I headed down towards the kitchen, where what I assumed was moonlight came through the open slats of the kitchen windows, filling that room with a pale whitish light.

On the tight hand side, the kitchen being on the left, was the dining room, with floor-to-ceiling windows that opened out onto the veranda that wrapped around the back of the house.

Outside the dining room was where the BBQ sat.

On that side, sitting on the veranda, the view stretched across a number the neighbours back yards that stretched down the the stream that divided pur properties from those on the other side, mostly ranches running either cattle or sheep.

Sometimes you could hear them at night, but mostly during the day.  When they were down in the lower pastures.  At the moment, they were higher up in the hills. 

Come Christmas, the vista from the back verandah would look like a Christmas card scene, one I could never get tired of.

Suddenly the dining room was filled with a very bright light, and it was almost as bright as day.  It lasted a few seconds before it just snapped off like someone had flicked a switch.

I had been almost blinded and couldn’t see anything for at least a few minutes before the inky blackness transformed into blurry shapes.

I crossed to the room and looked out the windows to see what I thought was some sort of vehicle, only it couldn’t be one because it was hovering above the ground.

My eyes were sore from the bright light before, and I think I must be hallucinating.  Under the craft were five figures, not human, and yet human-like, and walking towards them were the five members of the Richards, our next-door neighbours.

I just watched in utter fascination.

They stepped into the pool of very subdued light coming from under the floating vehicle, one by one, touched the hands of the newly arrived people and exchanged shapes.

Then the Richards went back to their house; the other creatures, human or otherwise, held hands and then disappeared.

Seconds later, the searing light reappeared and then was gone.  A second dose of light on my poor eyes looked a few minutes longer, and by the time my sight had returned, it was as if nothing had happened.

What had I just seen?

…

I woke up, and it was light.  Edie was already up and about, and it was just another day.

It didn’t feel like I had been awake for an hour or so, and in my head it felt like something had happened, only I couldn’t remember what.

I wasn’t tired, not like I had been awake half the night because I knew what that was like.

Something had happened.  Something significant, but it was just there, on the fringe of my memory, lurking, or waiting for me to find the right key and unlock that door.

“You going to stay in bed all day?”

Edie put her head in the door, on her way from the front door where she had collected the newspaper, to the kitchen where breakfast would be well underway.

It was just another normal day.

“Coming,,” I muttered.

“You snore.  I never realised it until last night.  You woke me.  Normally I can sleep through anything.”

“I don’t snore.”

“You do.  And talk in your sleep.”

I sat up and faced her.  That was frightening if it was true.  I often dreamed I was having strange conversations with people who were basically strangers, but only once.

“What did I say?”

“Something about old man Richards.  Not surprising you think he’s daft.  He hasn’t been the same since the accident.  Don’t hang about.  We have that appointment at the bank this morning.”

Then she was gone.

Richards.  There was that thing in my mind again, that memory that refused to come out of the vault.  Did it have something to do with Richards?

I shrugged.  It would return when it wanted to.  In the meantime, places to go and people to see.

…

Surprises were good, when they were surprises.  We had decided that after Elizabeth, the eldest daughter, got married, we would buy them a house.

With one thing and another, their six-month jaunt through Europe turned into a five-year work-and-play plan; they only decided to return when she fell pregnant.  Twins and a bot later, the place they were living in was too small, hence the house.

Everything was on track until Elizabeth saw us talking to the bank manager; she just happened to be in the neighbourhood and feared the worst: we had to downsize, or worse.

I was never very good at lying. Edie thought she had it under control, but what mother does with that first daughter.  The secret was barely intact.

Then we ran into the Richards, Bill and Betty.  It wasn’t a usual thing, and I couldn’t remember the last time.  Coming after the Elizabeth thing, I was a little shaken.

That nagging thing in the back of my mind got a bit of a shake.  Both the Richards seemed a little distracted, and Bill didn’t seem to recognise me.  Not at first, and I could see he was trying to cover it like people did when they have forgotten your name.

Betty was chatty, which was a change from her usual surly self; the reason she gave me many years ago was that Bill had dragged her out to this godforsaken place as punishment, though she never said what it was for.

Betty confused me with one of the other neighbours who looked a little like me, which I thought odd, but it wasn’t a thing.  Edie thought they were just the same as usual, vague and borderline rude.

Driving home, my head had got as far as deciding whatever was trying to get out had something to do with the Richards.

…

Once again I spent some time out with the telescope, studying the moon surface, and wondering if I’d live long enough to go there.  Every now and then a billionaire comes up with this idea of a weekend on the moon in a lunar hotel, and I dare to believe it might be possible in my lifetime.

The other day it had moved to Mars.  I’m sure the Martians wouldn’t mind, though I had no idea why I would think that.  It was like the day someone asked me what the Martians looked like, and I said, like us, only with synthetic bodies, so they could live in the atmosphere there.

It got me some very strange looks.

The sky was less crowded with stars, and there were clouds drifting by blocking the view.  It was a full moon, and I had a momentary thought of werewolves.  Not that they existed, but they were a part of folklore.

Then when the cloud cover was too thick, and the first spits of rain came, I went inside, made coffee and went to stand over by the patio windows.

A shard of lightning lit up the back yards of a number of the neighbours’ yards, as bright as day before darkness returned.

The rain became torrential.  The lightning was sporadic, and each time it lit up a different part of the countryside. 

There was a huge rumble just about overhead, followed by a bolt of lightning which, in the fraction of a second as it lit up the scene in front of me, I saw it land on Bill Richards, who had been standing out in his yard.

Another bolt hit our house, and there was a huge explosion.

That was all I remembered.

…

I was lying down in a brightly lit room; on one side, a man in a white coat was looking down at me.  On the other side, Edie was looking concerned.

“He’s been forgetting things, and talking in his sleep.  He hasn’t done that before.”

“It might be the settling process.  Sometimes it takes a few days.  The last upgrade was a little bigger than usual.”

“It worked for me.”

“You’re a 6AZ model.  More sophisticated algorithms because you are female.”

“You’re saying the male units are not as smart.”

What were they talking about?  Models, smart, sophistication.  I was just another person who was suffering from lack of sleep and hallucinations.

At least I think that was what I was there for.  This was a hospital?

Edie glanced at me.  “Oh, you’re awake?”

“That might be a matter of opinion.  I think I just woke in the middle of a nightmare.”

She smiled.  It didn’t fill me with confidence.

“You can’t go around telling people you saw aliens, Sam.  People get antsy when you say stuff like that.”

“I never said I saw aliens. When did I see aliens?”

“You said the Martians had landed next door and took the Richards away.  I mean, Sam, we saw them just a few hours ago.”

I was confused.  I could see in my head the spacecraft that was hovering next door and the body exchange of the Richards family.  I could remember meeting the Richards at the cafe, and how disoriented they had been.

The transfer process had still not been perfected.

Then I realised the truth.

“There it is,” the doctor said.  “It just needed a tweak.”

The doctor stepped away from the console, and I could see the twin flat lines running across the screen.  Memories and reality aligned.

I closed my eyes; everything went dark, and then opened them again.

Edie was looking concerned but relieved.  “How do you feel?”

“About sixty-four, give or take a week.  Getting old is not what it’s cracked up to be.”  I could feel something had happened, but couldn’t quite remember what it was.  “Another fall?”

“You need to remember to use your cane, Sam.  You are not as spry as you used to be.”

“No.  I guess not.”  I slowly got off the bed and stood.  I felt steady.

“Doc?”

“You’ll get there, Sam.  We all do in the end.  Just take care out there.”

“I will.”

Edie took my hand.  “Come on.  Places to go; people to see.”

Funny.  I was thinking that myself.  It was like I was reading her mind.

She opened the door and glared at me as I went past her.

“Don’t,” she said, not in words but in her thoughts.  “I don’t want to go home, so stop being difficult.  Earth is so much better than Mars.”

I looked at her as she followed me out and closed the door.

That doctor was our supervisor and had been assessing me.  The Richards had cracked the week before, and he had them replaced.  We’d be next if I didn’t appear ‘fixed’.

She was right.  Back home we’d be in a factory, chained to a production line.

“Understood.”

“Good.”  Then out loud, for the benefit of those around us.  “I need you because we have a housewarming to plan.  The bank just approved the house purchase.  Elizabeth is going to be so surprised.”

In more ways than one.

…

©  Charles Heath  2026

What I learned about writing: The murky art of plotting! (1)

Truth is stranger than fiction

…

Google Maps: More Than Just Directions – A Portal to Phantom Mysteries?

We all use Google Maps. It’s our trusty co-pilot, guiding us through unfamiliar streets, helping us find the nearest coffee shop, and even letting us snoop on our old childhood homes (admit it, you’ve done it!). But what if I told you that sometimes, beneath the familiar satellite imagery, Google Maps offers a glimpse into something far stranger than your aunt’s meticulously manicured lawn?

Lately, chatter has been building around peculiar anomalies popping up on the platform – digital specters appearing where they absolutely shouldn’t. Imagine panning over a dense, untouched forest, far from any airport, only to find a colossal Airbus A320 or Boeing 737 perfectly intact, sitting in a clearing. No missing plane reports, no emergency landings, just a commercial jetliner chilling amongst the trees. How did it get there? And more importantly, why?

This isn’t an isolated incident. There are numerous reports of cars, sometimes multiple vehicles, resting eerily at the bottom of lakes, visible from above. While many of these are indeed phantom images, some chillingly prove to be real. You might recall the story of the car discovered in a lake in Florida, which, upon investigation, contained the remains of a man who had been missing for over two decades. The digital anomaly led to a very real, very tragic discovery.

So, before we reach for our tinfoil hats, there’s a rational explanation for most of these ghostly appearances. The phenomenon is often an instance of image overlay or “ghosting.” Google Maps stitches together countless satellite and aerial photographs taken at different times. When an object, like a low-flying aircraft, is captured in one image over a particular spot, and a later, object-free image of the same spot is layered on top, a faint “ghost” of the original object can remain visible. The plane in the forest? It’s highly probable it was just flying incredibly low when the initial photograph was taken, leaving its digital imprint on the landscape.

Mystery solved, right? Well, mostly.

But what if, just what if, these digital echoes aren’t always mere glitches? What if, sometimes, they are whispers of something more, waiting to be heard?

Mick knew all about those lonely leisure hours when there was nothing else to do. He wasn’t one for idly scrolling social media; Mick was a tramper, a genuine trailblazer. His idea of relaxation was poring over topographical maps, looking for untouched corners of the world, sketching out potential new paths through forests, and dreaming of odd discoveries. Years ago, one such expedition had led him to uncover a lost village of significant archaeological value. He had a knack for finding things.

One drizzly afternoon, with the rain drumming against his window, Mick found himself drifting through Google Maps, exploring remote stretches of a national forest known for its dense, ancient foliage. He zoomed in, panned around, his cursor tracing imaginary trails. He wasn’t looking for glitches, but for inspiration, for the subtle hints of untamed beauty.

Then he saw it.

Not a ghost, not a blur, but what seemed to be distinct wreckage dispersed in a clearing. Glimpses of what looked like metal fragments, incongruous against the deep green canopy. It wasn’t the clean, whole plane of famous internet anomalies, but a scattering, undeniably man-made and out of place. He noted the date of the photograph – nearly a year prior.

A chill ran down his spine. He immediately checked local news archives, aviation reports, anything about missing small planes or crashes in the area. Nothing. Not a single mention. It was too remote for a simple crash to go unnoticed, yet too significant to be naturally occurring.

He kept the location saved, revisiting it over the next few days. It gnawed at him. Was it a trick of the light? A bizarre anomaly of the photo processing? He called a friend, an equally seasoned bushwalker, and explained his digital discovery, asking him to verify it on his own map.

“Right, mate, I’m looking,” came his friend’s voice over the phone a few minutes later. “Where exactly did you say?”

Mick guided him, pixel by pixel. “See it? Right there, by that cluster of three oaks…”

There was a pause. “Uh, Mick? There’s just… trees.”

Mick’s stomach dropped. He clicked back to his own map. The wreckage was gone. The clearing was pristine, just an unbroken expanse of forest. He felt a wave of self-doubt. Had his mind been playing tricks, wanting to find something remarkable, perhaps fabricating the whole thing?

But then he noticed it. The date of the photograph displayed on his screen had updated. It was no longer the nearly-a-year-old image. It was a new one, taken just a few weeks ago.

The digital ghost had vanished, but the seed of a real-world mystery had been planted. With the rain still falling and nothing better to do, Mick knew exactly what his next walking holiday would entail. He wasn’t just going to look at maps anymore. He was going to see what was really there.