“I hear the voices every spring,” Mirella insisted. “It leads me to the Spring Calling of Spirits.”
Category: general fiction
This Textured Darkness, #61
There was no disguising the dew on her feet or the altered expression in her eyes.
Susie and Nonna con’t (A Harshbarger Mills Story)
Other than Nonna, I haven’t seen a woman wear an apron in years. “It’s easy for you, Susie. You can talk to anybody. I’ve never talked to anybody much in my life.”
Nonna and Susie con’t (A Harshbarger Mills Story)
“It’s not old stuff,” I explain. “They call it Appalachian crafts. The woman who sold that awful quilt made three hundred dollars. You know what she told me? Her dog whelped on it.”
This Textured Darkness, #60
She yearned to reach out and touch him. It was an innocent wish for she was still a maid, but the need was real.
Susie and Nonna (a Harshbarger Mills Story)
I want to take Nonna to Mill’s Bottom, to a low, flat ground where people buy and sell everything, where money changes hands like water and hard cash is plucked down for junk.
This Textured Darkness, #59
She could now run up the twisted stairs as easily as a skilled musician played a harp.
This Textured Darkness, 58
Learning to work the twisted stairs was like learning a language.
Intro to “Nonna” (A Harshbarger Mills Story)
The King, alive on a hot pink tee shirt, lives again. Of the four poses, this one is his favorite. This is the way he would look, Reuben decided, if he were a star.
This Textured Darkness, #57
There are twenty one steps above, each designed to break a leg or crack a skull.
