Our Refuge_The Way to Eden_Green Cheese_The Burden of Perplexing Words
Catalog Guide:
Our Refuge
In the early spring of 2022, COVID-19 had taken away too much time, too many lives, and a quality of life I believed we’d never get back.“You know what, hon?”His eyebrow arched. My husband recognized the tone in my voice. I knew he was wondering how much work I was about to create for him.“No, but I can bet you’re going to tell me, right?”I couldn’t wait to see his face light up. “Since we can go out as long as we continue to avoid crowds, what do you say we go and open up the cabin?”Maybe this trip could restore some sense of normalcy. I guess in the grand scheme of things; the cottage-style ...
The Way to Eden
There was a tune always running through her head, but Blue could never remember the words. They were important somehow, a secret she was supposed to know, but every time she tried to focus on it, the burgeoning sensation on her tongue died away. It always happened near the surface, though. When she went up to the pontoon platform she'd managed to create for the scavenged solar panels she'd found, the tune would slip into her mind like a curious anwww.onedoor.ccd cautious guppy. She thought maybe it had something to do with the brightness of the Sunlight Zone. Since she lived most of her life in the eternal ...
Green Cheese
When I was little, my mum read me a nursery rhyme about the moon. The only thing about it that I remember is that it referred to the moon as being made of "green cheese", and I was so confused. The bright light in the sky was neither green nor was it made from cheese, near as I could tell with my toy telescope and five year old intellect. When I asked her about it, she laughed. "Oh, Bobby," she said, ruffling my black hair affectionately."In olden days, people made up stories to explain the inexplicable...they thought the moon looked like a wheel of "green", or unripened, cheese, so the nickna...
The Burden of Perplexing Words
Havenwood lunatic asylum sits atop a hill on the outskirts of Blackpool and has done ever since Eighteen Sixty Four. This is where I live now. My name is Elena Marchant and I’m a lunatic, apparently. My father didn’t take kindly to my unusual vocabulary, and so he had me locked away in here. He said they can throw away the key for all he cares. He is ashamed of me, I’m nuts he says. No daughter of his, no longer the primrose he nurtured. Nor will I ever be now. I dare say he is much more concerned with what people will say than he is about my well-being. I can see the headlines now:Magistrate ...