Détails du livre
Format
Kindle
Pages
43
Langue
Anglais
Publié
Mar 5, 2014
Éditeur
Helping Hands Press
Description
For some, it's impossible to let go.
In this collection of short stories:
The Passing of Things
I sense the tiniest pang on the edge of Mica’s thoughts. He is thinking of his sleeping chamber in Haven-Rest. Sparse though it was, it was home and it was warm. Here, high in the Crescendo Mountains in late autumn, there is only the cold and wind.
If Only to Say Goodbye
People had warned Rick about the man and his strange ways, but he couldn’t be dissuaded. He had to find the man who could send him back in time.
Away
We were walking away when he read my mind.
“You want to go back?” he said. He was leading the way, nearly a giant walking beside me, radiant beyond words.
We stopped as snow started falling lightly through the night sky. Streetlights illuminated the dancing flakes. The sight was odd and strangely exciting. Snow.
“It’s New Year’s Eve,” the angel said.
Severed Roots
He had started back toward the shanty when the air stirred lightly, suddenly, and he heard a moan full and low.
She stood where the tree had been with her naked back to him, facing the morning sun. Long black hair brushed against her shoulders and the curve of her arms. “Clarissa,” Tommin breathed.
In this collection of short stories:
The Passing of Things
I sense the tiniest pang on the edge of Mica’s thoughts. He is thinking of his sleeping chamber in Haven-Rest. Sparse though it was, it was home and it was warm. Here, high in the Crescendo Mountains in late autumn, there is only the cold and wind.
If Only to Say Goodbye
People had warned Rick about the man and his strange ways, but he couldn’t be dissuaded. He had to find the man who could send him back in time.
Away
We were walking away when he read my mind.
“You want to go back?” he said. He was leading the way, nearly a giant walking beside me, radiant beyond words.
We stopped as snow started falling lightly through the night sky. Streetlights illuminated the dancing flakes. The sight was odd and strangely exciting. Snow.
“It’s New Year’s Eve,” the angel said.
Severed Roots
He had started back toward the shanty when the air stirred lightly, suddenly, and he heard a moan full and low.
She stood where the tree had been with her naked back to him, facing the morning sun. Long black hair brushed against her shoulders and the curve of her arms. “Clarissa,” Tommin breathed.