The Last days of Craig Rose_The Rain and the Drop_Spring is Coming_Unexpected Angel
Catalog Guide:
The Last days of Craig Rose
“Hey, Princess! You ready to go?” My dad stood in the doorway as the nurse unhooked me from dialysis. “Yeah. I needed blood again today.” I frowned at him while grabbing my coat. He rubbed the back of his neck. “So, Dr. Malcolm said. I’m sorry. We will find something to help you, Princess. Come on. Let’s go home.” My dad helped me into the truck before climbing into the driver's seat. Craig Rose was a huge man with strong arms, calloused hands, and an easy smile. My mother had been gone since www.onedoor.ccI was a baby, and other than an occasional visit with my Grandmothers in Ohio, we only had each other....
The Rain and the Drop
Every day, as the sun hid behind the mountains to the west, Tropf would once again flow around their ocean. The last traces of light in the sky were reflected in the undisturbed surface of the water. After wandering in the depths and tracing the edges of the coast, Tropf would flow out, into the land. Every day the routine was the same, and so Tropf watched over their ocean. Some days rain would fall for days and the ocean would rise, others would be dry and warm, threatening the body of water and its many residents. During storms and droughts, they remained ever watchful and never lost sight ...
Spring is Coming
Hi, just really quick, this short story will include some gore. Just a quick warning! Anyway, I’ll get out of your way.I watched my sister play in the river. The water was so clear you could see the stones at the bottom. It cut the royal garden in half. The only way over it was a bridge that lay not to far from us, or swimming of course. These gardens were our favorite place. The old willow tree that hung over the river always gave a form of shade on the hottest of days. Its trunk was thick giving you a place to rest your back. During the spring, small flowers-“Look Tiggy!” Kit cried sprinting...
Unexpected Angel
Unexpected Angel by Robin NeumayerThe wings were beautiful, if unexpected. They began as pale, pastel colored feathers; downy and shining in the sun. Anima was tiny and would caress these soft feathers as she rocked back and forth spreading the wings to catch the wind. As she grew, the wings became huge in size, but they remained lightweight. When out-spread a breeze could flutter the wings like a child’s kite floating up into the clouds.But Anima was, at the beginning, a normal baby; not chubby, not emaciated, but light. It was as though she was made of gossamer and dreams. When she was eight...