The old man stood at the top of a bushy hill in the Overberg mountains and watched the lone figure approach in the distance. His left eye twitched. His face, wrinkled and worn under a felt hat registered only the faintest surprise. Narrowing his eyes to see better the figure walking along the gravel track through the trees, he turned slowly to walk down the hill. 'So you are coming for me,' he mumbled to himself. 'This is the day.' He took a last look at the man with the purposeful stride, and walked to the house where he lit a cigarette and waited....
For some of the writers I worked with, google "Old man" and start writing. Am checking in tomorrow.
Rayda
