August King and the Book Master_Old Mister Johnson_APRÈS-SKI OR…?_It Must Have Rained
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August King and the Book Master
The trees started to move slower and slower as the car turned on the last street. The library parking lot was still a few feet away and the old family car was chattering its way in a snail’s pace. The sedan was brown and had a few scuffle marks on to the side. A small but visible dent was also present on the front bumper. Dad had said it was some fool at the supermarket that hit Bessy. Bessy was getting old and we all knew that.At the bottom of the stairs of the Greenbriar Library, Bessy came to a quick stop. The town’s most iconic building that used to be Mr. Greenbriar’s house. He was the fo...
Old Mister Johnson
“I bet he’s a witch,” Jimmy from down the street said to me as we were walking back from the park.“Don’t be silly,” Mikey said, rolling his eyes. “Men can’t be witches.”“Yeah, well, if you’re so smart, what do you think he is?”“I bet he’s a criminal. The FBI are just waiting for him to go outside so their spy satellites can catch his face and send out a full swat team www.onedoor.ccto nab him.”It was a fairly lazy Saturday afternoon during the summer after seventh grade. My buddies and I had been playing ball with some other kids, and were walking back home. As usual, our path took us right past that house...
APRÈS-SKI OR…?
It was an early morning start; by half-past six, Matteo had arrived in Chamonix, the base of the Mont Blanc. He was excited, fired up for one of the greatest challenges of his life. He was about to conquer the highest slope in Europe. Matteo was in his mid-forties, Italian by birth, and he skied regularly on the slopes of the Dolomites. This accustomed him to the high-altitude pressures of the sport. It put him in good stead for the day’s activity.The ski lift would make its first trip just after eight in the morning. Matteo made his way into one of the cafés and ordered a plate of delice-des-...
It Must Have Rained
It Must Have RainedIt must have rained, ground wet, everything dripping. How could I have not noticed, sleeping as I do now with my cheek cushioned on the windowsill, breathing trees and stars.Two weeks ago, I separated from my husband by moving upstairs. It turns out it was not far enough, but I did not know this then. Raised the mattress to sill level, where I could pretend I was sleeping outside, perhaps nestled in the night sky, a newborn in the Milky Way.I slept oblivious to this rain, its whisper on the shingled roof, dreams undisturbed, but remember the feel of water on my skin, clothin...