Icy Temperament_What belongs to me, belongs to thee_Somewhere in the Unknown Part 1_Born Evil?
Catalog Guide:
Icy Temperament
Ice cream in the summertime sounds like a nice idea until you give it to a toddler. My daughter’s face was covered in vanilla streaks and her brand-new clothes were sticky and stained. It took me several napkins to get her cleaned up and by the time I was done, she gave me that signature smile that she knew would get her out of trouble. And once again, it worked.“Look how fast my boat is going, mommy!” my son, Dawson, shouted. “It’s going faster than Daniel’s!”His older brother looked quite displeased with that statement but kept his eyes focused on the race, nonetheless. All week long, the bo...
What belongs to me, belongs to thee
Lucas sat at his desk, pen in hand. These were the last two mementos of his 13-year marriage she had left him. Everything else had been stripped to bare stone. Except the rank smell. That could not be cleansed from the room – chilled rock, ocean salt, fish and blood. This space was more an enclosure for a wild animal. It had never been a home, not the sort you return to gratefully and open the front door to be greeted warmly, with the smellwww.onedoor.ccs and sounds of love and family. For all he brought her, for all he gave her, she returned it with the coldness of the sea itself, the sea that will kill a ...
Somewhere in the Unknown Part 1
PROLOGUE “He’s getting out of control. He needs to be stopped.” said the voice in the shadows. “He’s only fourteen.” “That’s old enough. I mean he fooled the machine, he has to be dangerous.” There it was again, the man’s sickly machine that kept all mankind “in line” or so he said. Just yesterday a boy was found in the warehouse where the machines were made. This is the most unsuspected thing. That is saying a lot considering we have a machine that knows what everybody in this state is going to do, has done or even might do. This machine had too much power. The man in the shadows had t...
Born Evil?
I flop back on my couch with a groan, closing my eyes as I sink into the soft leather. The last five hours of my day had been spent with Sol in the training grounds. Even after sixteen years of training with swords, maces, guns, knives, and a multitude of other weapons and techniques, it’s exhausting. Sol has been training me to fight since I was born. I can’t remember a time when at least three days out of the week wasn’t spent in the courtyard, learning numerous ways to be knocked down. He always says, “It’s not about how many times you get knocked down, it's about how many times you can sta...