The Path Less Traveled_Palace At The Edge Of The World_YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN?_The Cat and the King
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The Path Less Traveled
Throughout time, man has been faced with decisions, some of which were easy, and others much more difficult. Here tells the tale of such men, faced with a difficult decision that could alter their lives drastically if not chosen wisely.Bartholomew Hornbuckle, a dwarfish man, short in stature, but strong in heart, traveled with his companions along the mountain pass. With a pack made of sinew and hide from a boar strapped upon his back, and his sturdy dagger still stained from his last kill, Bartholomew led the union of young travelers across the rugged landscape.It was Angus MacPherson, a you...
Palace At The Edge Of The World
They say that if you walked to the edge of the world you’d find not a precipice, but a palace. The palace is said to stretch on for miles - expansive and pristine, but far from extravagant. Bright light seems never to touch this place, but neither does darkness. It exists in a space of perfect balance. The axis of good and evil, morning and night, love and despair. Those that return carry back tales of a brother and a sister. Two quiet souls who look neither beautiful nor grotesque. They glide along the empty paths, unaware or uncaring, of the few eyes who watch from beyond the low, white wall...
YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN?
This is so old, it's got mold. Here we were on the way to clean out the remains of a house trailer that had been stuck in the same location for over eighty years. It's buried like a grave site imbedded in the ground but there was still access to get inside to hopefully find the answers to the questions that have surfaced at family get-togethers over the years. It was an unforeseen moment in time when a hurricane lifted the house trailer only to neatly set it down about a hundred yards away. That was the craziest moment highlighted years ago in daily newspapers across the country. Where the fam...
The Cat and the King
The rain was relentless. A thick sheet of it draped the lip of the bridge. Below, the metal boxes containing humans whizzed by, spraying fractals against the concrete slope, leaking fresh puddles out along the sidewalk like blood. The cat licked hard at the scabby head of her youngest, buttermilk like his father but for a diamond of black fur on his scalp, the only evidence he was hers. Something was not right about him—the skin hung loose from his twiggy frame in piles. If she let him wander, he’d rub against the wall and tear his flesh; it was delicate, no match for a shelter of stone and s...