The Nay-Nay_Widow's Circle_The Dragon War_NO TIME FOR REVENGE
Catalog Guide:
The Nay-Nay
Connor Blackwater peered into the box at the creature inside. “What is it?” he asked. “Don’t know son,” replied Uncle Bart. “I was hoping you’d tell me, you being such an expert and all. All I know is it’s injured, needs help.” “Bartholomew Grigson, what’ve you brought him now?” “Oh, hi Shona. Just telling young Connor here, it’s something I found injured by the side of the road while passing through Idaho. Middle of nowhere, no idea where there were any vets, so brought it back for Connor to nurse back to health.” “As if we haven’t got enough waifs and strays. Ah well, one more won’t make any...
Widow's Circle
This is a post-apocalyptic love story about the day of the rapture. It occurred in Tennessee, on October 28th, 1964、 This is the story of how the witch saved me.History threads like a needle in the South. Southerners are more conscious of the thread than anybody. Our ancestors are pulling on one end, our grandchildren on the other. The pattern's ours to sew. Truth becomes what it needs to be over time, and with a strong hand it can be manipulated to what the body and mind need. It's the same everywhere, of course. But other places don't keep track of the threads like we do.Sewing is a woman's ...
The Dragon War
Looking back, it is the smell that has stuck with me the most. The scent of burning flesh, of charred trees, of rotting bodies has been seared into my brain like a brand on leather. The images become harder to picture with time, but a whiff of a fire, and the exact odor seeps into my nostrils simultaneously with my thoughts on the subject. I will tell you the story once, and only once before I leave this world for the next. It takes my company four days on horseback to reach the camp behind the front lines. We are a small company. There are only two dozen of us, and most are young like me. It...
NO TIME FOR REVENGE
It was twenty-four years since she had seen it but it looked exactly the same…creepy. An old double bricked manor house converted into a convalescent home, but instead of promoting good health, there was something sinister about Chadwick. Even now, Moira could feel the chilling tentacles of despair, of fear and repressed emotion, even from the comparative safety of the road. The climbing roses once a feature of beauty now a tangled mess hiding cracks, insects and most lwww.onedoor.ccikely vermin. It was a sad reflection of a bygone era; of wealth and socialising, of balls and the hunt, of arranged marriages...