Finding Home_Pushover_The Legend of the Canair Bells_Overalls That Were Too Big
Catalog Guide:
Finding Home
It was dark here, in her glade. The moon hung high awww.onedoor.ccbove in a sky the color of dark velvet. A tiny sliver of light suspended in a sea of tiny pin pricks, like a thousand candlelight vigils in the night.She lay on her back, stretched over one of the limbs of her tree. The branch was soft and comfortable, as if molded to her back. It was summer here, the days stretching into forever but for her it was always the nights that brought her comfort, reminded her of her past and her old home far away from here and unreachable. She missed it sometimes, the world she knew, the smells of the engines an...
Pushover
Family is undoubtedly the most cursed gift known to mankind. You believe this because you've constantly reminded yourself of it. Since you were a wee little child of nine, you came to believe that while the word was highly praised and revered in your society, it meant nothing but the most foolish and detrimental of bonds.You are sitting by your bedside table, your open window providing a view of cherry blossom trees, your Montblanc pen poised in your left hand. Your palms are sweaty and dripping all over your journal, but that doesn't bother you in the slightest. Your chest is heaving, and hot...
The Legend of the Canair Bells
“Listen… I’ve discerned a pattern.” A small group stood in the shadow of the church, at Canair, listening to James, the caretaker. “I first heard the bird’s call the morning of the baby Aiden’s christening.” The widow, called Mad Agnes, spoke. “The bird didn’t bring the Christening.” Several moaned, “Oh, I pray not an omen…” “Of course not. Father Ambrose says a healthy baby is from God. No one disputes that. After many difficult months, that bright faced baby, truly is a gift. The bird heralded that.” That calmed them. “But I didn’t heed it until this week. In the gathering storm, I heard it ...
Overalls That Were Too Big
His knees were certainly buckling a bit more than they should have been, trying to carry me out of the water.But we did it nonetheless, him determinedly digging his feet into the wet sand, anchoring on with his toes to resist being pulled back into the foamy sea. I didn’t do much to help, other than laugh and wrap my then short arms around his neck tighter. Salty water dripped off us, gathering in droplets everywhere from the tips of our matching messy brown hair, to the strings of my bathing suit, and of course to our eyelashes, which were angled low to protect from the glaring sun. I shrieke...