Holiday Dinner_Hearth Manor_Shuttered Hearts_Picturesque
Catalog Guide:
Holiday Dinner
The patter of heavy little feet thumped across the wooden deck. Amy Jo watched her son duck around the porch corner behind her gas grill. Peeking his head out he stared at his mother, then down the short sidewalk.“Conner, what are you doing?”His head retracted like a turtle behind the black metal grill shell. “I’m hiding from the Nowhere man.” The empty lower half of the grill exposed the bottom half of his purple t-shirt, all of his shorts, and the tops of his shins. Amy Jo turned to the young blond man who tottered awkwardly one step below the porch. “I’m sorry Joe. He always does this arou...
Hearth Manor
Mary didn’t know why she was afraid of the dark, nor did she understand the intricate and fluid cycle that brings day into night and night into day. Nonetheless, as a child, Mary could be seen watching the sun through the glass panes of her family’s 15th century Manor house, following its motions ever so carefully with her curious eyes. When orange leaked into the sky by evening, again Mary watched as the sun sank behind the trees at thwww.onedoor.cce far end of the estate, forever wondering where the warmth of the world resided when the moon came up. However, much like the push and pull of her wooden yoyo,...
Shuttered Hearts
Weddings prove to be the perfect hunting grounds. My brother—with his ridiculous scythe—prefers them, harvesting the overly excited elderly in the midst of their joy. He finds those who’ve imbibed too much, attempting to drive home instead of into a telephone pole. On occasion, a jilted lover will show up, armed and reckless, doing most of his work for him. Fortunately, there are also tiny bones in fancy fish and overweight aunts who dance until their hearts give out. Hearts are normally my thing. Click. I smile, giving the young couple a thumbs up. The fake shutter sound of my digital camera ...
Picturesque
“What’s that?”“I don’t know for sure. Someone’s photo that slipped out of this book I picked up at the library. I think it’s a young girl, or possibly a boy. Hard to tell, it’s so grainy and old. The black and white is more like brown and browner. My Father had a whole cigar box full of pictures like this. I’d ask him about who the people were when he’d pull them out from under his bed. He’d look at them, and kind of drift off into dream space. I’d ask who they were? If they were relatives, friends, and he’d always say, “I really have no idea anymore.” Strange you’d be lookin at pictures of pe...