Sunrise Story

A short story written by Deborah R. de Souza of Singapore.

Sample of story:

She turned and looked at the house. The house on top of the hill stared back at her.
For the past fifteen years, this had been her home. She knew how every lane, road, and path curved and bent. She knew exactly where each one would take her, and what she would see as she travelled along each one of them.
The fields that bordered these roads were always filled with flowers of every colour one could imagine.
She had gathered them, put them in vases, and placed them on the dining table so that her home would look nice. She even collected them and placed them at her altar. Her mother always said it was important to show the Lord how much you loved Him by doing little things like this. And despite all that, she never thought it important to know the names of these flowers. How sad.
Now as they waved their good-byes to her, she felt a hand clutch her heart. Yellow, purple, pink, even blue. They all had names. They knew her but she never thought to know them. And now she would never know…
The small village with its three hundred and twenty-seven, well, twenty-eight people now that little Toby had made his entrance into the world had been her world since she was five.
It had been a huge place when she had first seen it. Everything was huge, the grocery store, the shops with their porcelain coloured mannequins and out-dated fashion, the Library with its very limited editions, and the Church with at that time round-faced and belly, Father Albert Jenkins. He now looked tired and worn out, sharing the same stories, and giving the same homilies. Even a glance at the opposite sex would render a girl pregnant!
She smiled at the memory.
She looked to her right of the scene painted before her at another house. Sarah’s house. Sweet Sarah. Her first and best friend.

The complete script, plus all 2,000 other DramaShare scripts, are available at no charge to DramaShare members, non-members may purchase the individual script.

A short story written by Deborah R. de Souza of Singapore.

Sample of story:

She turned and looked at the house. The house on top of the hill stared back at her.
For the past fifteen years, this had been her home. She knew how every lane, road, and path curved and bent. She knew exactly where each one would take her, and what she would see as she travelled along each one of them.
The fields that bordered these roads were always filled with flowers of every colour one could imagine.
She had gathered them, put them in vases, and placed them on the dining table so that her home would look nice. She even collected them and placed them at her altar. Her mother always said it was important to show the Lord how much you loved Him by doing little things like this. And despite all that, she never thought it important to know the names of these flowers. How sad.
Now as they waved their good-byes to her, she felt a hand clutch her heart. Yellow, purple, pink, even blue. They all had names. They knew her but she never thought to know them. And now she would never know…
The small village with its three hundred and twenty-seven, well, twenty-eight people now that little Toby had made his entrance into the world had been her world since she was five.
It had been a huge place when she had first seen it. Everything was huge, the grocery store, the shops with their porcelain coloured mannequins and out-dated fashion, the Library with its very limited editions, and the Church with at that time round-faced and belly, Father Albert Jenkins. He now looked tired and worn out, sharing the same stories, and giving the same homilies. Even a glance at the opposite sex would render a girl pregnant!
She smiled at the memory.
She looked to her right of the scene painted before her at another house. Sarah’s house. Sweet Sarah. Her first and best friend.

The complete script, plus all 2,000 other DramaShare scripts, are available at no charge to DramaShare members, non-members may purchase the individual script.