Laveth despised Open Court. The peasants always returned with the same stories; the young lords always argued.
Tag: fiction
This Textured Darkness, #66
Those who attended her fledging functions were warmly welcomed; those who chose not to come were never invited again.
Nonna Gaylene Walks the Floor (A Harshbarger Mills Story.)
I haven’t been feeding Lucky’s hounds. I hate them. I was, and still am, feeding pace, the monster dog Lucky flew in from Texas on a plane.
Conclusion of Susie and Nonna, (A Harshbarger Mills Story)
We’re closer than sisters.
Nature is trying to atone for the terrible mistake of planting Lucky in my mother’s womb.
“Susie, I’ll need your help at the flea market. I don’t know how to sell.”
This Textured Darkness, #62
“I hear the voices every spring,” Mirella insisted. “It leads me to the Spring Calling of Spirits.”
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, #59
She could now run up the twisted stairs as easily as a skilled musician played a harp.
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.
