The Almond Tree

This is only the beginning...

Great, billowy eaves of branches dangled over the whispering grass as cheery birds hummed sweet tunes to their work.

A cool breeze sprang upon that open expanse and over the waving green leaves high overhead.

The sweet smell of almond flowers drifted about the strong tree's trunk.

Fresh, ripe almonds crunched in the mouth with a salty-sweet bite.

The whole air of the place lifted the spirit and refreshed the soul, as if the Maker Himself had come to rest here beside the tree and fill the expanse with peace.

And so many had come here for a rest--a splendid nap beneath the swaying leaves.

So many memories were held here. So many lives had been changed here. And so many more still would.

Sliced Guiles: Chapter 1: Dusting Old Memories

In November of 2009, I wrote a novel I titled Sliced Guiles. Allow me to introduce to you its opening scene.

Chapter 1:
Dusting Old Memories

A chill gust of air shivered through the doorway; little but the pale sound of the wind sweeping the dust about the room echoed in her ears. Her tightly-pinned white hair fell out of place as she jerked her head around the room, scanning the last remains of this house. All that was left was the bookshelf and every memory engraved in its holdings. She gathered up her shawl and slowly stepped over to it, running her frail fingers over the edges of every dusty book it presented.

Her wavering hands selected the first journal on the top shelf and drew it out. It was a small, mahogany book with gold, fluid letters on the front: Young Journals. She slid open the book and smiled at the misshapen handwriting etched so many decades ago...