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A collection of three short stories written on very different subject matters in very different times and places. Take a short walk with the characters as they face life's challenges; the ones we can relate to and some we may not. Peter a man seeking a home for his little family outside of the struggles in the city. Next, a collective dream or shared experience among men, for a reason. The third is the story of Max returning from 20 years in captivity, the life he lived in comparison to the life he lost. They are all stories of love, loss, and hope.
-The Thought of Home-
He walked forth into the sunlit streets, generic clothing to go with a generic smile. There are nods of acknowledgement to certain folk and passers-by. It is a complex puzzle determining who is worthy of the action verses who is not. Those who receive, often leave with a puzzled feeling concerning this character. If his ego knew how often these meetings survived in the minds of his fellow man, he would be more generous with the gesture.
-Of One Mind-
Vision
Only in the fall, when the trees change, when the air dampens, when the clouds are gray. Only then does the spirit of man walk among the souls that were. The journey is one that has and will be; time and place simply are. Where and when is only where we look.
A whistling breeze dampens his garb as he paces onward. The ground is soft with moisture. There are various windblown leaves patterned along the path. It has been human worn, this path, but none so recent that nature has not already concealed her invaders. On each side are overgrown soft grasses swaying like seaweed with the tide.
The Long Way
The long road home they call it. Is there such a thing as home in this world? One cage to the next, one room, one cell, one world that the living cannot escape.
The man most people know as Max was approached by a guard. Four a.m. in the morning, most folks are sleeping, Maxwell Toner had not slept a wink. He was instructed to gather his belongings, those which had not been packed away, inventoried by the guards last night. He was further instructed to slide his wrists out the trap, behind his back, to be handcuffed.
-The Thought of Home-
He walked forth into the sunlit streets, generic clothing to go with a generic smile. There are nods of acknowledgement to certain folk and passers-by. It is a complex puzzle determining who is worthy of the action verses who is not. Those who receive, often leave with a puzzled feeling concerning this character. If his ego knew how often these meetings survived in the minds of his fellow man, he would be more generous with the gesture.
-Of One Mind-
Vision
Only in the fall, when the trees change, when the air dampens, when the clouds are gray. Only then does the spirit of man walk among the souls that were. The journey is one that has and will be; time and place simply are. Where and when is only where we look.
A whistling breeze dampens his garb as he paces onward. The ground is soft with moisture. There are various windblown leaves patterned along the path. It has been human worn, this path, but none so recent that nature has not already concealed her invaders. On each side are overgrown soft grasses swaying like seaweed with the tide.
The Long Way
The long road home they call it. Is there such a thing as home in this world? One cage to the next, one room, one cell, one world that the living cannot escape.
The man most people know as Max was approached by a guard. Four a.m. in the morning, most folks are sleeping, Maxwell Toner had not slept a wink. He was instructed to gather his belongings, those which had not been packed away, inventoried by the guards last night. He was further instructed to slide his wrists out the trap, behind his back, to be handcuffed.
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