Stories abound. They are everywhere. Some stories are massive and glorious like a monument, a structure of marble and stained glass. Some are humble and simple like a puff of cloud or a puddle of water. And some stories–most perhaps–are somewhere in between, small, but complex, more than first meets the eye…like a feather.
Everyone has stories. Here, I will tell you some of mine.
They went to visit him at night. They had to. They could not walk about by day, for the light of the sun was abhorrent to them.
Those words were taken from the writings of a nurse who resided in the town at the foot of the hills, a charming and lively town in modern times. But steeped in accounts of strange—some say otherworldly—events from only a few generations past. Continue reading
I’d lock myself up if I thought I was really a danger. I’d have myself committed to a psychiatric hospital. I would. To keep from hurting someone. I don’t want it to come to that. But I’d do it.Continue reading
On a bright spring day, a group of young academicians gathered at the banks of the river to challenge each other’s skills and provide a spectacle to whomever had the patience and the interest to stand by and watch. The day before, it was the naturalists who were testing themselves. But on that day, the architects had gathered, and their challenge was to build a tower of stones and pebbles, gathered from the banks or within the river itself, for it flowed softly where they had chosen to hold their contest.
The grass is purple in that valley. And the sky is green. That’s how you will know that you have reached the entrance to the vault.
I never really expected those words from an ancient myth to guide me on this failed expedition. And it was failed because even if I found the vault, even if I managed to enter it and lay my eyes on what lay within, I would never find my way out again.Continue reading