Author: Kiwiolckers

My love for writing has always been a part of me and ever since I was a young child, I was busy writing. If it wasn't my poetry, then it was me creating sonnets or plays. I always loved writing; if I had no place to write then I would spend hours just making up stories in my head. I always kept paper and pens with me and created journals that had everything and anything in it. From my poems to my likes and dislikes, to my short stories. I will never forget when I was a teen scrapbooking became the popular 'in thing' to do, but that was never me. I tried it once but hated it; I lived for the A4 thick books that I wrote in. I remember a few years back I had started writing a book that I wanted to do, all about diabetes and prediabetes. What a hard topic, I know, but with so many close friends and family suffering from this condition I wanted to write about it. I used to go and visit my doctor; not because I was sick but I wanted to make sure the facts I had written were accurate. I didn't want to risk writing anything incorrect. The doctor eventually let me use some of his medical books to do my own research on the topic. It just shows to what degree a writer goes to perfect their book. I became my own 'journalist', finding people living with diabetes that I could write about; giving them full credit of course. I have even had a lady tell me that she hopes I complete this and publish it because the world needs to see what it's like living with diabetes. Unfortunately, thirty thousand words just ended up being hidden in the back of my study cupboard collecting dust, as my busy lifestyle took priority. I never knew where I got my talent from until my dad said to me one day, "Justine, finish your book and I will give you all of your grandpa's letters that he wrote when he was in the army, back in World War 2." Obviously, I got excited and more encouraged to finish my book. I have never read any of his letters and only really knew of them now. When I was done with my book, I phoned my dad and told him. Five minutes hadn't even past and I received all my grandfather's letters via email. I could not wait to open and begin reading all of them, this was very exciting. It then dawned on me why my dad delayed giving me these letters until I had completed my book. It was because my grandfather was the person in my family that I had inherited my talent for writing from. Reading them was an emotional experience, the way he wrote his 'high English', and the way he explained things in such detail. My teachers loved my poetry and always encouraged me to keep writing and reading. Some of my fondest memories were of my one teacher asking if she could read my poetry and the next time I got my poetry book back, she had fixed all my spelling and grammar. She would always make me re-fix what she had corrected and then she would tell me to bring it back to show her that I had indeed fixed it. This, as a young child, always motivated and made me feel that people out there believed in me. My English teacher always encouraged us to read up on Oscar Wilde and W.B. Yeats, who even today are my utmost favourite poets. Just before my school years had come to an end, my dad asked me if I wanted to be a pilot. With no objections, I jumped right into it with being such an adrenaline junky. I have many likes such as writing and arts, but flying was something that I loved. I also learnt to do aerobatics, which was the pinnacle of my adrenaline-packed life. I met the man of my life in my flying courier. Kyle (Paul) and I have three beautiful children together, two girls and one boy. He has always believed in my dreams and passions and always encouraged me to do what makes me happy. He has played a major role with anything I have written. He loves reading and I love writing so he always reads everything I write, and we then chat for hours about my ideas. My flying slowed down to a complete stop after the death of one too many dear friends. I felt a tad lost in between that time and finishing my novel. I was lost in thought of what to do with my life, as I wanted to achieve something, and it had to be big. As a promise to myself I won't fly small aircraft again, but I still needed that thing to excite me. So, I joined a well-known writers' college and decided to get a certificate in the 'write a novel' course. The minute I joined I knew, this was it, that pure excitement of writing again was there. I couldn't sidetrack, it was done, I had paid for the course and now it must be finished. I lived for my course. I worked incredibly hard every day on it. By the time I had finished I realised; "Wow, Justine, you did it. you just completed your first book." That pure joy I used to get for flying I now get for writing. I knew that this was my calling in life. There were many obstacles in front of me whilst I was busy with my course; three young children and we were also busy immigrating to a new country. But I did it, I had finished at a writers' college with a distinction which was such a great achievement for me. We immigrated to New Zealand from South Africa mid-2019, which has truly helped unleash the creativity in me. I have been inspired by the country's beauty to get more creative with my writing. Thanks to all my friends who have motivated me to write. Enjoy Justine J. Olckers

Militaria

Kiwiolckers

 

Militaria

 

It is hard to seek a place to hide, thought Samuel as the bombs and gunshots went flying past his head. He was so scared, as he was afraid to die.

 

Samuel leant against the wall and wiped the dirt from his face. The poor boy’s body was in shock; battered and bruised. He had been shot and it was fatal. The bullet had blown off a large chunk of his leg. He whimpered as he looked down and could smell the awful stench of rotting flesh next to his feet. It was a person, judging by the sight of the clothes and body parts sticking out.

 

“Militaria,” he shouted!

“Not militaria,” he cried out whilst trying to identify who this person was.

 

Samuel crouched down and forgetting about his gaping wound, he turned the body around. It was a man, missing half of his face and his crystal blue eyes gazed deeply into Samuel’s soul.

 

Samuel knew that his time on earth was short, as the blood was gushing out of his leg. He sat by this man and locked eyes with him.

 

“Boy, get lost. Go and find help! Don’t sit by me, you fool. You have the chance to survive,” the dead man said.

 

Samuel knew he was hallucinating from the blood loss, but it felt great to have someone by him.

 

Samuel had lost his parents in the war a few months ago, just short of his tenth birthday. He was holding on for dear life. “What’s the point, you are the only person I have now.” 

 

He put his arm on the man’s remaining leg and rested his head. As he stared into his eyes the silence surrounded him, and he couldn’t even hear the noise of gunshots going off. “Is this what death feels like?” he asked.

 

“Come, lie by me and keep warm!” said the dead man.

 

Samuel wrapped the dead man’s arm around his body, as tears rolled down his cheeks.

 

“Militaria,” he whispered one last time before he closed his eyes, never to wake again.

I did it!

Kiwiolckers

I did it,

I started probably like I am now, what to write? How to write? When is the best time to write?

It was rather exciting when I started writing my first book, I got so involved in every single character that I eventually started almost believing that my characters were indeed real. It took me sometime to complete my first book but I did it, a real proud moment indeed.

My book is on Amazon now, you can buy it as an e-book or a paper back, personally I prefer paper back, that feel and smell of holding a book is priceless.