Reap the Harvest_Mr. Stocker_THE POOL ROOM AT PELICAN POINT_Time Between
Catalog Guide:
Reap the Harvest
The harvest moon hung low in the sky as the witch waited for the firstborn to arrive.Long ago, the witch found shelter in the abandoned cottage. The cottage was nestled in the forest on the tall mountain. A hunter chose the same, hiding from a fierce thunderstorm and holding a wounded arm. The witch cured the man, asking only for the buck he’d bagged. The hunter gladly gave it in return for his bow arm.The hunter returned to the village in the valley below the tall mountain, bringing news of the witch, her cure, her price. Soon the witch began receiviwww.onedoor.ccng visitors of all sorts, lo...
Mr. Stocker
The door drew the students towards it like the magnets grabbing up the iron tailings in the labs they’d just completed. Mr. Stocker shook his head in quiet bemusement. Most of these kids had expansive, icy personal bubbles more befitting of polar bears than humans, but when the lunch time bell was approaching, they’d crowd together like fans rushing Taylor Swift for an autograph. He wondered if they were even aware of their proximity, or if they were so singularly focused on getting away from each other as quickly as possible, that they didn’t realize how close they’d allowed themselves to bec...
THE POOL ROOM AT PELICAN POINT
In the quiet retirement community of Pelican Point in Boca Raton, the residents enjoyed lavish facilities and an active lifestyle. The clubhouse had an Olympic-size, heated swimming pool, a resistance pool for walking, two heated spas, a Swedish sauna and a steam room. There were three restaurants, offering everything from breakfast omelets and French toast to the finest steaks, chops and salads. Friday night seafood extravaganzas, Saturday night brisket and stuffed kishka specials, and Sunday morning bagel, lox and chopped liver jamborees kept the residents satiated and satisfied. Physical ac...
Time Between
By the time I stepped outside, the leaves were on fire. With a sigh, I closed the door.“You know, if you don’t put that out, Mrs Evans will have a fit,” I said.Laura pouted. “They’re a trip hazard. You’re always saying you need to keep this driveway clear.”“‘Clear,’ I said. Not on fire. By my house.”“Spoilsport.”“And what happened to ringing the doorbell anyway?”“Eh. Life’s too short for doorbells.”She looked away then. I said nothing. She didn’t know that I knew. Hopefully, she never would.“Alright,” I said instead. “So, once we’ve put this out, what’s the plan?”She looked back again, smile b...