A bridge too far_Parting the Clouds_A Tyranny of Clocks_My Worst Nightmare
Catalog Guide:
A bridge too far
A bridge too far“Oh hell, no, no, please no,” her inner voice screams; however, she hears herself saying: “Of course, no problem, give me a few seconds to sort myself out.” But it is a problem. She had spotted him making his way up to the stage and was uncertain of what to make of him. He was unsteady on his feet, needing to rest his hand on a chair once or twice to steady himself; she assumed he’d been drinking but was not yet drunk – the worst kind. There were actually more than one problem to deal with; the bitter tang of cheap whisky on his breath when he leaned into her; the stubble on hi...
Parting the Clouds
Each step forward in the dark forest brought Joe Stinson face to face with another mysterious turn. He had driven around the entire afternoon trying to uncover the path to the ramshackle “mansion” that he thought would form the foundation of his future retreat on the Eastern Shore.Joe’s afternoon adventure, however, quickly caused a confrontation more complicated than the twists and turns of his own troubled personality. For six months he had fought off the effects of the post-Vietnam PTSD that nearly had caused him to off what remained of his hitherto worthless life.Harry Spontaine, one...
A Tyranny of Clocks
The clockmaker’s mansion overlooked the town. Built on the foundation of a scorched castle, she’d inherited the home from whose window she now watched the sky deepen over the sleepy town. She was tired, too. A full-night’s rest didn’t enter her musings, though–not anymore... Taking a last sip of tea, she laid down. She didn’t change into bedclothes–she didn’t own any. They seemed pointless and inconvewww.onedoor.ccnient, given her nocturnal routine. The town looked sleepy, but she knew better. There, tonight, time would start, stop, or do both; it would change, and she would have to answer its call. She’d i...
My Worst Nightmare
“Why am I doing this?” I ask myself. I have the instructions of how to get to the place scribbled on a piece of paper and I can’t even read my own handwriting. My friend was telling me over the phone but was obviously in a rush, and talking too quickly. It’s easy when you’re not the sleep deprived one trying to write it all down with a blunt pencil. “So that’s the address” she told me “Did you get it all ?” “Actually, what comes after 116 Brent Street?” “Not Brent Street, it is Bowen, B O W…” she started to spell it out for me. “I get it, Bowen, but what’s after that?” She repeated the addres...