Dick Wydoo, the Real Wooden Boy_Food For Drought_Snuffy's Golden Path_Help Is On the Way
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Dick Wydoo, the Real Wooden Boy
Dick Wydoo, a boy I went to school with, was walking home from our final class of the evening early, because a huge log was dropped on his arm during woodshop, so he was excused. He winced at the pain in his right arm, and dared not to look at the crippled limb, for Dick had a weak stomach.His home was empty besides his cat; on the kitchen table a note taped to a frozen tv dinner read "My mother had a stroke, will be home in a week. Plenty of these in the freezer. -Mom." He shoved the packet into the microwave and sat down, ready to see what damage the forearm had taken. On the top side t...
Food For Drought
The spearman limps into the clearing, his body weary and his mind wearier still. He’d been beckoned by the melody of rushing water, and having the stream finally blossom into view is a much-needed respite from the day’s wounds.And by Athor, what a day it’s been. The cries of men and women in their death throes still ring in the depths of his psyche, mingling with the clang of metal against metal and the aroma of spilt blood cooking under the sun. Naturally, he loves Athor as much as the next Sunseas warrior, but can’t the Lord of the Day and Bringer of Warmth stand to bring a little less warmt...
Snuffy's Golden Path
Once upon a timewww.onedoor.cc in November 2009 a beautiful rabbit princess was born in the springtime. Her mummy called her Snuffy. Snuffy enjoyed her young life. When she began to grow, her parents announced to her that it was time to begin her journey on the Golden Path. At the end of the path, she was told, is the land of the Rabbits, but her parents let her know that her journey on the path would be filled with excitement and growth.And so on one very special morning Snuffy set off on the Golden Path. Although Snuffy was afraid to leave her parents, she learned that she would receive love and care fro...
Help Is On the Way
I can’t feed myself in the manner to which I had become accustomed. I know that sounds petty and bourgeois but it is the reality of my life. I had grown used to the dairy-free lifestyle that included butter on hot garlic knots, those fresh little ringlets of home cooking, so comforting as they helped eased the soul, worried about the future. I liked my tempeh browned, almost crispy and my thin, green spears of asparagus organic, of course. I liked berry kombucha, whichever was on sale, boring pretzels when I had to snack and maybe an apple turnover, or three, every now and then.Since George di...