THE NEXT HEIR_The Way the Sea Looks at Me_Exit Agency_Winged Symphonies
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THE NEXT HEIR
THE NEXT HEIR“We are here,” Candice said beside him, and when he pretended not to hear, she hit his thigh softly with a fist.“Ouch!” he yelped, “and was that even necessary. Where are we?”He opened his eyes and what met his gaze left him open mouthed. They had said he had been summoned to Andorra for government business. Before that he had never known there was a country called Andorra. Even with a Masters Degree in Education such things were the least of his enthusiasms. Oh good grief, who cared to know about paltry countries nowadays?Well, he had to deal with the inquiries later because at t...
The Way the Sea Looks at Me
I curled my toes toes in the cold, monsoon fed seawater as my feet waddled gently against the rising tide. The sun was about to set through the violet water into the ominous deeps of the Andaman Sea, crashing down below drowned land bridges and coral reefs, facing whales that covered the moon and the stars, and finding its warmth dilated from the luminosity of the squids and other aquatic life.There were grey clouds trailing the wind in the sky, crossing countries and borders, fishing villages and old uninhabited settlements in the Andaman and Nicobar island archipelago. Most of them where sma...
Exit Agency
Exit AgencyHalf down. No refunds. Prices vary by customer. Contracts sacred.--And of course, it’s a parking ticket, because that’s how Simon Barell’s day/week/life goes. It’s just the way the joke would go. He gets in, rests his forehead on the wheel for just a few seconds, just to breathe, before looking at the paper to see how much money he’s going to lose and how much his wife is going to yell at him.There’s a card that slips out. White fancy paper with shimmering gold script: Leave It Behind: Exit Agency- Half down. No refunds. Prices vary by customer. Contracts sacred. And an address.He f...
Winged Symphonies
“Look out the window, dear, at the last leaf on the wall. Didn’t you wonder why it never moved when the wind was blowing? Oh, my dear, it is Behrmann’s great masterpiece- he painted it there the night that last leaf fell.”Amber ran her fingers through the last lines before closing the book. She looked out through the crystal covered window that barred the sound of winter. She felt that she heard the soft whispering of snowfall. She heaved a deep sigh and looked at her fractured leg. It had been almost two weeks in bed and that was the third time she read The Last Leaf. Winter had set in her ic...