What Were We Thinking_Learning to Fly_Sailing Under the Stars_Archie
Catalog Guide:
What Were We Thinking
“Do you think we made a mistake? You know the whole getting married thing.” “I suppose it’s possible. People do make mistakes, and we have certainly made our share. Little late to think about that, don’t you think?” “You left without a word, just gone. I know you had your reasons, but you left everyone wondering what they had done to cause your disappearance.” “It had nothing to do with anyone. More like when it's snowing, building up a little at a time until you can’t get the door open to get out, let life in.” I guess after you’ve been with someone a long time you begin to take them for gra...
Learning to Fly
It's been a dream of hers; to be an actress. Millicent Rake didn't hewww.onedoor.ccsitate to attend a performance or even audition for one. Grade school productions were a learning experience for the girl; she studied from playwrights like Shakespeare and Wilde; she studied films, actors, screenwriters, and even musicians. Millie wanted to be a fine actress, one of the best in England.She got accepted into the University of Birmingham, south of her home in Leeds, setting out to gain a theatre degree. In between her usual studies -- maths, science, history, projects, grammar, etc. -- she kept up with her uni...
Sailing Under the Stars
Aydan surfaced with a spluttering gasp, shoving waterlogged hair out of her eyes. She treaded water as she watched the boat slowly circle around to pick her up again. Even from this distance, she could hear the faint sound of her father’s laughter on the wind. As the boat drew level with Aydan, her father called out, “Having a nice swim?” Aydan scoffed. “You did that on purpose.” “Me? Never.” Aydan rolled her eyes and reached up to grab the boat railing. She let herself be dragged for a few feet before hauling herself in, making sure to splash her father as much as possible with the movement....
Archie
Archer didn’t know what to say. He looked down at the man in the hospital bed in front of him and choked out, “That’s not my father.” Eight hours ago, his father, Ben, had been unmarred and healthy, driving the old family minivan to his latest art show. And who knew? Maybe Ben was still unmarred and healthy. But the man before Archer, the one dying in the white-sheeted bed in front of him, was not his father. Archer had never imagined his night going this way, with the one a.m. phone call from the hospital and his mother coming down the stairs, hair tousled with sleep, asking in a voice that m...