Glimmer of Spring_Dating is Tricky_The Outbreak_Durinda and the Lucky Hex
Catalog Guide:
Glimmer of Spring
It had been a dismal winter. Nothing but rain and sleet had been falling down. Only now it had begun to snow. The forecast for the next week was to return back to the sleet and rain. But that wasn’t what was worrying him. Oh no. What was worrying him was the fact she had called in the middle of the night and asked him to meet her at the corner of 5th and Main. Tugging on his old boots with holwww.onedoor.cces in them, he made his way down to the desired location. “I need to tell you something,” she whispered to him, looking into his eyes. How he had landed with the most beautiful actress in their city was b...
Dating is Tricky
It’s not an easy time to be a god. Especially for a trickster god living on 49th street in Hell’s Kitchen, New York City, currently receiving mail under the pseudonym of Mal. Nope, it wasn’t an easy time for me at all.You might have heard of me by a few other names: Māui, Anansi, Loki. You may have heard stories of princesses, god wars, and superheroes. You may have been a target or an innocent victim of one of my pranks, plots, or practical jokes. For that I’m sort of sorry, but when it boils down to it, that’s just who I am. I can’t help it. So I guess I’m not all that sorry.But all those i...
The Outbreak
Exhilaration. That was the one word that I could use to describe what this freedom felt like. Ever since the day I was spat out of Mother Earth’s bowels, she had trapped me in her cage; like she does with all of my kind. You see, with too many of us, Her precious world would succumb to pestilence. Lush, vibrant land reduced to a barren waste. Humans, animals, nature, all perished with our fury. She keeps us alive because frankly, She needs us. When the world starts to go in a direction that She doesn’t like, She releases some of us, and we vent our pent up rage on Her creation. Some of us are ...
Durinda and the Lucky Hex
Once upon a time, in the village of Mold-Upon-Turnip, there lived an unremarkable girl called Durinda. Her hair wasn’t ebony or chestnut, gold or russet, but a dull shade of blond that someone had once likened to “possum fuzz.” Her skin didn’t shimmer or grow tawny in the summer sun, but was a sickly pale that barely freckled. And her eyes? They were green, but so is grass, and so are leaves. In Mold-Upon-Turnip there was a cruel woman who held more wealth than God, and possessed less sense than a child, Princess Jet. She called herself princess because of her lofty view of herself, and her d...