My journal of big words and pretty pictures
Lying face down in the field of clover, Pepper swept her hand over the top of the trifolium carpet. Acres of three-leafed ground cover spread out around her. Near the point of panic, she once again lamented that the “luck” gene had skipped a generation in her family - her generation. Local folklore surrounding the prowess … Continue reading Good luck charm
Morning sunlight flooded the room through the open door. Raeanne hummed along with the robin’s birdsong, a haunting melody of loss and dying. "Come, gentle death, and end my grief; Ye pretty birds ring forth my knell; Let robin redbreast be the chief To bury me, and so farewell."* It was a glorious day. The … Continue reading Pretty birds ring
The story so far… “What happens to Payne when we capture Quentin?” Barlowe said. “Once he’s no longer a host, does he become Payne again? Will he remember anything about being a host?” “I don’t know,” Abigail said. “None of Quentin’s hosts have ever survived to ask.” “One did.” Barlowe felt like he was drowning. … Continue reading Deeds speak louder than words
The story so far... Their corner booth was in the back of the restaurant. Barlowe knew the maître d’ and asked for his regular, secluded table. He needed to talk with Abigail without being overheard. There were still so many questions unanswered. The basics were fantastical enough, but he was expected to suspend all reason … Continue reading A storm’s brewin’
My emotions are all a jumble. This is our first Thanksgiving apart. Even saying it like that, “apart,” seems only temporary. I supposed given the circumstances, “asunder,” would be more accurate. I made dressing for dinner even though I never liked eating it. I would only make it for you. I guess it was simply … Continue reading Fragile thanksgiving
He is an angular man, obtuse with a straight-edged mentality. Two-dimensional in his scope, wavering neither up nor down. Square-jawed masculinity shades his inner disarray. His flippant tongue has gotten him in trouble more than once. Cutting remarks cannot be dulled by a sharp wit, they still wound. Those piercing eyes follow you everywhere, seeing … Continue reading What’s his angle
Thin spiral notebook 