Words by Grace E Hall

A Celebration of Silence Smoke rose steadily from the sizzling fire-place in the castle kitchen. Three darkened figures stood at the board, one cutting onions, another plucking horse-grass, and a third pounding away at a mortar. A buzzing swarm of flies hovered near the lamp on the wall, and a row of pies was laid out on a shelf to cool.   The onion-cutter was the tallest figure, bony, and sporting the air of an old and slightly bedraggled dog. The onions had a none too cheering effect on her complexion. “Weather has been right disagreeable.” She sniffed and renewed slicing with slow and determined strokes. “Wet. Too wet.” The second figure was of middle height, red-faced and formidable, but with a placid, cow-like expression. “Well, it can't last long, Perra dear. The king is planning the celebration of silence already.” At this the third and smallest figure thrust the pestle against the mortar most violently indeed, and the light flickered. “Please, control yourself, Ar...

Once upon a time there was a space-ship. I believe it was the most dreadfully old-fashioned space-ship you could get at the time---an Onion-model—and no one had flown it in years. It was at the moment sitting in the launch center somewhere in the Third Empire on Dry Earth, with a pleasant view of the Great Sea and surrounding mountainous territory. It was positioned among several larger space-ships and atop a very old rocket-booster that had not been used because of suspected leaks. At that time space-travel was very uncommon indeed; there was no way to reuse the rocket-boosters, and it was extremely dangerous besides— there being only two ways to land at one's destination: an uncontrolled descent into a large body of water, or a long docking process at a flimsy and usually overcrowded satellite sending people down to the planet below in rockets. (There was also the method of securing an attachable rocket-booster beforehand at the satellite, so that the space-ship could be put do...

      Be Grateful Bob lived with his mother and father and three younger siblings in a big house that looked like it was made of gingerbread; walls of rich, yummy brown; vibrant, cherry-red shutters; and, at this time of year, a thick, fluffy layer of icing-white snow upon the roof. A fat chimney leaning against the side of the house puffed forth large quantities of woodsmoke and smells of good things; for Ma was inside cooking bread and pies and ham for dinner. Pa could be seen ensconced in the fire-side chair reading the newspaper and listening to radio, while Bob and his siblings (Jill, Jack, and Daisy) played video games in the loft. The scene was pleasant: already a fine set of things to eat was laid upon the counter-top—cookies, oranges, and a steaming bread-pudding—the fire crackled as it burned, and the shouts of the children at play drifted downstairs. Yes, it was the picture of a good home practically bursting with good things. The children were all red chee...

Today I would like to bring to your attention some of the changes I have recently made. Hopefully these changes will make the blog more interesting and available.  First of all, I have received several people saying that they cannot comment on the posts I make. This should now be fixed. To make sure please comment on this post if you can and that would be greatly appreciated.   Secondly there is now an email feature so that I can notify you when a new post has been posted; if you wish to partake in this feature, please share your email address so I can add you.  Anyway thank you for your patience and support, and hopefully there will be more stories to come!