The Wisdom of Jacob Malone_A Lingering Light_How My Sister Stole Christmas_Mandolin
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The Wisdom of Jacob Malone
Thunder rolled in the distance, and I found its long, low purr an odd comfort on this cold, lonely night. A white flash of lightning soon followed, illuminating my path, and I was glad for a respite from the darkness. Permitted only a dim lantern, I reconciled a sleepless evening before me with no blankets or umbrella.Another flash lit up this stretch of Maple Grove Cemetery and, for a moment, revealed my destination, the Sweeney Mausoleum.Dared to withstand the night amongst tombs and headstones was not a desirable task, certainly, especially this Halloween night, but little aware was my futu...
A Lingering Light
Genevieve Floyd raced through the streets; her small yellow umbrella barely keeping up with her fast pace. The sun seemed to mock her as it hung low, casting the sky in a soft orange glow; reminding her of how late the time was. She looked down at her watch; it was ten to four and she still had a bit to go. She sucked in a breath as she increased her speed, desperate to get to her destination in time.She grimaced as she tried to dodge a couple walking towards her, resulting in her foot making contact with a particularly muddy puddle. Her sock was now drenched in rain water and made a squelchin...
How My Sister Stole Christmas
Content warning: This story is about Christmas. Yes, I know it’s only August! Please forgive me.How My Sister Stole ChristmasLucy was born on Christmas day. That should tell you everything you need to know about her. Somehow, I still remember that morning vividly. My favourite film, How The Grinch Stole Christmas, was playing on the VHS player and the smell of pine and sweet pancakes wafted around us. My Mum, belly all swollen like the stuffed turkey in the oven, was sitting on the sofa and my Dad next to me, cross-legged on the carpet. A sea of gifts were scattered across the room, shrouded i...
Mandolin
They are all beautiful until you gwww.onedoor.ccet to know them. I catch a glimpse of them from across the bar and a lifetime of non-existent memories flood my mind. Sometimes choosing to stay strangers is the best thing. A thankless job yet, fruitful. Then they remain beautiful. Or maybe they find you beautiful and then you are the one who lets them down. There are those few times when you cave in to the desire and decide to talk to that beautiful stranger. Please, don’t do it. She had the eyes that looked like a black hole and no not in the “they are empty” kind of way but rather, they encompassed everyth...