There’s a spot on the jaw, and under the chin,
That my fingers can touch, when he truly leans in.
Then his eyes squeeze shut and his head tips way back,
And I’m turning the tables with The Method Attack.
There’s a spot on the jaw, and under the chin,
That my fingers can touch, when he truly leans in.
Then his eyes squeeze shut and his head tips way back,
And I’m turning the tables with The Method Attack.
The twins pushed the net over their heads, flinging it to the side. “Well Mam-Duchess, why DON’T you marry one? We’re still just kids, after all!”
Sister Indelicata tipped her head, as she gathered up her seal-hunting net. That was the most grown-up thing they’d ever said. Perhaps those girls had promise, after all. Continue reading
Sister Indelicata had heard the soft thunk of wooden doors against stone walls, and knew immediately that the twins, Tikk and Tokk, while not planning a coup d’état (military or otherwise, those two were capable of either), were certainly planning chaos. Continue reading
How to get from one side of the room to the other without causing too much of a commotion in the main ballroom?
Yes, the Duchess was sure to notice that her twin wards, Tikk and Tokk, hadn’t stayed in their novice’s cells as they’d been directed, instead slipping the pins out of their door hinges and gently laying the wooden doors against the opposite wall without creating too much of a bang, but then, they planned to be long gone before that happened. Continue reading
“What goes around, comes around, again and again and again,” Sharlie muttered, shuffling her feet – along with all her fellow shift workers at Widgetties Inc — over the cracks and buckles in the sidewalk that led up to the factory’s tall, iron double doors. Her steel-toed boots were worn, soles held to uppers with fraying duct tape. “Uh-huh, Baby needs a new pair of shoes, but first she needs a different, better job.” Continue reading
To see Part 1, please click HERE.
Laurel cherished these times of connection with the ancestors, seeing and hearing in ways that she could not with her living family.
And yet, were her living family to follow her through the moisture-slimed tunnels and over the cold sand, down the granite hill that led to the underground pool, their senses would have been too much dulled by the buzzing, blooming confusion of the world above. Even by lantern’s glow and luminous rocks to mark their passage, they would be lost. Continue reading
Annalisa stared down at the menu, a bead of sweat trickling down her temple in the dim light of late night. The other pages were just as crowded with options, all of them equally unappetizing, but she knew she had to make a decision, and knew that Rory, sitting opposite her at the patio table, was beetling his brows and tugging at his walrus-like mustache. As was his habit, he waited in judgment, ready to trumpet his corrections to whatever choice she might make. Continue reading
Writing and Stuff by Chris Hall - Storyteller and Accidental Blogger
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