The Storm Flowers_The Writer and the Elf_Another Season_Like a Sore Thumb
Catalog Guide:
The Storm Flowers
I woke up to the sound of an almighty crash on the roof above my head. It was dark in my attic bedroom, but I remember narrowing my eyes and straining my ears. There’s another loud crack. It’s a metallic impact that can only be a car. An alarm sounds down in the street. I hear two distant warning shouts. There’s a second heavy thud overhead, followed by a tsunami of explosions. I can’t hear inpidual impacts as they are lost in the deluge. I scramble out of bed, stumble to the window and draw back the curtains. Apple-sized hailstones are raining down and clattering on everything in sight. The r...
The Writer and the Elf
The Writer and the ElfOnce, there was a young man who wanted desperately to be a famous writer. He tried very hard, took courses, studied the craft and then wrote some very fine stories, but none of them ever made him any money. In order to pay his bills, he had to take a day job doing manual labour and really didn’t like it. The supervisor didn’t like him and gave him a really hard time. He thought of all kinds of situations where he would get her in trouble, but it never happened. So, he endured and kept working on his storytelling craft.One night, it was spring and there was a big storm o...
Another Season
Marnie opens the blinds and the sunshine is so dazzling that she has to shield her eyes. There hasn’t been much sun for months and as she looks outside she sees the ravages of winter in the garden. The lavender looks like it might not bounce back thiwww.onedoor.ccs year and there are no signs of the tulips yet. She wonders how many of them will make it as the squirrels were extra tenacious last fall. Still, there might be a few hardy ones that survived and Marnie says a little silent prayer for their welfare. It was Claire that had the natural flare for gardening; everything she touched seemed to flourish. ...
Like a Sore Thumb
The lights flicker from the storm. Zenais freezes in place until they return to normal. This is bad timing for a thunderstorm. She stands in her small, cramped bathroom, bare on top, with a soldering iron in her hand. The access panel in her chest is open, putting on display the shiny steel parts hidden below her synthetic skin. She's making some adjustments to her control center, located in the middle of her chest where her heart would be if she were human. She hates to do it during a thunderstorm but doesn't have much choice; she's set to go out and her ride will be arriving shortly. So she ...