The Dog Days of Summer_The Mountain of Joy and Grief_TOGETHER AGAIN_The Lost Fairy Tale
Catalog Guide:
The Dog Days of Summer
Silence. Not just quiet, but silence. Total silence. No more humming from all of the electric and electronic appliances in the house. Just, nothing. Blackout. I looked at my watch — 8:24 p.m. I hoped it wasn’t going to last too long. First, because, well — duh — no Wi-Fi, and second because it had been in the 90s all week long, and it was still in the 80s and the house would turn into a sweat box without the a/c. And, I was seven months pregnant, so, yuck. The first thing I did was check my phone. I had a signal. I tried calling, Barry, my husband. “Due to an unexpectedly...
The Mountain of Joy and Grief
A long time ago, iwww.onedoor.ccn a faraway land lived a woman named Anushah. Her simple abode in the mountainous area had sheltered her for years. Caring for the goats, sheep, and chickens filled her days. On that delightful summer day, the breathtaking view of the snow-capped mountain seemed especially grand.The slope of the mountain had the company of animals grazing on it. The red poppies had covered the area. It was an invitation to the butterflies with their uninhabited and mesmerizing dances. Anusha sat under the nectarine tree, absorbed in the relentless agility of those colorful symbols of hope and...
TOGETHER AGAIN
“Oh no, it’s happened again! How did I wonder this far away and where am I?” The tall, thin, elderly gentleman’s pale blue eyes darted frantically around as he tried to discern something familiar in his surroundings. It wasn’t unusual for him to become lost in his thoughts, only to realize that he’d wandered off the beaten trail, but this time was different. Out of nowhere, he was besieged by a sense of panic, and a most invasive thought that he would not return to these grounds next year. There was the smell of freshly baked apple pie wafting on the balmy breeze that comes at the end of an ea...
The Lost Fairy Tale
‘Knock knock.’‘Who’s that?’ A woman’s voice hoarse and caustic and rusted with age came through the other room. ‘Is that my knight in shining armour?’ ‘No, Blondie, it’s just me,’ I carried the bags in, keys in mouth, flicked the switch with my hip, and let loose the contents of my arms in a heaving piling lump by the kitchen table. The curtains were closed and the electric glower of the bulb flickered in the gloom. ‘Oh, I thought you were my knight in shining armour,’ the voice said.‘No he comes Wednesday,’ I said. I spread the shades above the sink and let the sunlight trickle in. The kitche...