“Bear…” Bear lifted his head from the rag rug in the great room, but said nothing, then put his head down again. “Bear!” Sighing, he got up. It was a cold, wet, windy day: dull, drab, and bone-chilling, and all Bear wanted to do was to lie by the fire. But no; Girl had to go exploring the cabin. He padded around, looking for her, and finally found her at the back of the storeroom. “What,” he said, sounding annoyed. “Bear,...

Immersed inside a book outside a storeThe lady stopped, involved in stories deep.To break into her mind might prove a boorBut surely one could ask to take a peep. What novel had she found inside the stall,A queer old book or volume bound in calf?Perchance a quaint old tale to hold in thrall?One hopes it isn't just some worthless chaff. A strong allure is built from many quirksDisplayed while one has lost oneself inside.A...

At Bronwig’s bookshop there's a notice on the door, in red capitals: IN LIQUIDATION. It’s devastating. I’d been a customer since I was too small to see more than the top of Mr Bronwig’s head behind the counter. His hair was white, even then; delicate as cotton candy. I didn’t come to Bronwig’s for the books at first. I came for the turtles. When you bought a book, Mr Bronwig would delicately fold a paper model to serve as...

I discovered gardening recently. Yes, I know I didn't invent sticking some seeds in the dirt and hoping it turns into something, I mean I recently discovered the hobby, which is now an obsession of mine. Growing up, my father had a vegetable patch. I remember very vividly each summer looking at the bumper crop of sweet corn, tomatoes, cabbages and herbs that had grown. Back then it hadn't interested me. I think because it...

Once upon a time, there lived a boy who loved only books.Comic books, textbooks, crime noir, Westerns, romance, classics, pop-science, esoterica, ancient philosophy and mythology. Trilogies, prequels, sequels, reboots, stand-alone, shared worlds. If it had ink and paper, he'd read it. And he had his favourites, oh yes – but Bookboy knew better than to judge a book by its cover. So he gave every book a chance, and he read...

Dear AuthorAs you may be aware from my earlier letters, I am one of your biggest fans. I loved your last book — and I don't just mean I liked it a lot. I mean I loved it the way a man loves his wife, his children, his parents. The way a drowning man loves a life jacket, or the stranger who dives into the water to rescue him, heedless of the danger; the way that stranger loves others more than himself. I really, really lov...

I go to the library to relax To find a book with all the facts Read a short story on the run Grab a joke-book just for fun Visit places I have never been See people with different trends Look up sports, animals and such These and more with only a touch With a library card and a look The world becomes an open book

I read once about a girl who cut stinging words into her flesh, some flowery, a few dirty, many harsh and emotional. The book was really very good. It was titled Sharp Objects and written by a now favorite author by the name of Gillian Flynn, called so because the woman within would use any object to slice herself to safety so long as it was sharp enough. Reading the book of murders and teeth pulled out, a small town of 2...

With a thought the feeling returns and I impulsively clutch my chest. It won't go away. My mind whirls with disordered thoughts. I realise that I'm frowning again and try to relax my eyebrows. The pain abates a bit, and I chastise myself once again for my moment of weakness as I become conscious of the way I'm clutching at my heart. But that thought is enough to trigger another wave of overwhelming loss to wash over me. D...

Chapter 1 September 11th 2001 8:46 a.m. An explosion of sound blasted through the building. It lurched violently to one side. Two people in the express elevator with me gripped the handrail as we continued our ascent. One was a twenty-something woman wearing tan pants, a white blouse, and an embroidered red scarf. I’d seen her many times having lunch at The Odeon on West Broadway where I worked. The other, a man, was tall...

Like books arranged upon a shelf,memories display there. We can choose to read them again,or not, or even share. If placed in a certain order,favourites' at one end. Chosen ones read over and over,bring smiles again and again. Bad memories from days gone by,gather dust at the far end. Pick up only favourites to re-read,share with a friend. The not so favourite don't pick up,or even recall. Ones covered with thick residue,...

AmandaI absolutely love the fact that life will sometimes provide small offerings that are both unexpected and immensely satisfying. Little things, that initially seem to just make your day, but which you later discover have been etched in the positive aspect of your psyche, forever. It has happened to me many times. And each time, there remains a lesson, an appreciation which remains emblazoned on my heart. The story I a...