Madoona Connection_The Family You Find_Family Climb_Home Is Where the Hytte Is
Catalog Guide:
Madoona Connection
It was a way of life of people called igbo's in olden days, and over here, olden days means from 1970 backwards. 90 percent of the population was concentrated in rural areas and their life was a routine, the same things, the same process everyday. You woke up in the morning, you sweep your compound, tidy your kitchen, fetch water water, go to farm return around 5 and 4 pm, prepare night food and then go for 'Tale by Moonlight' at the village square or any other minor gathering square in your kindred. One interesting thing was that, it is interesting life style and it was never boring. The nigh...
The Family You Find
My first sense to come back was taste. And it was blood, that familiar metallic which registered first. "Familia?" My vision was still fuzzy, but I didn't need to look up to know that I was in deep shit. "Familia," the masked man shouted again. "Nada," I replied as I spit blood onto the dirt floor. I knew how this worked, I would be held, and my family would have to pay a ransom for my freedom. There was only one hiccup in my captor's plan, I didn't have a family. I never had a family, and I liked it that way. I looked over at the six fellow-American tourists who were all seated against th...
Family Climb
Wind howled in Devin’s ears. He tried to tell himself it was just the wind. The cold attacked every joint, seeking out every seam of his cobbled together gear. Part of his mind wanted to let go and fall into the abyss. He screamed back at the wind and forced his arm to swing the adze another foot higher, another foot farther. “Mom!” he screamed downward, “You’ve gotta try! Keep climbing!” Wind or no wind, he should have heard her response. She should have yelled something back, however defeated or demoralized, one of her trademark watered down swears at least. The weight on the safety rope to...
Home Is Where the Hytte Is
Thea was well acquainted with the sensation that is burning. From cold, from heat, from ice, from fire. It always hurt, but there was something comforting about the familiar sort of pain that came along with stepping on snow with naked feet, or holding impressively frosted hands too close to a flame. Physical burning, she was well accustomed to. Anticipated it with elated apprehension, even, because cold hands meant snow, and snow meant winter, and winter meant joy, just as much as heat meant sun, and sun meant summer, and fire, and www.onedoor.ccif put together, winter and fire meant family and hytte. Hytt...