Cloud Herder

Cloud Herder

A man fights for survival in the desert. The first (short) story in the world of “The Forgotten Creatures”.  •  18:00 min read

 

Sand blasts forward, hurtling up sheer rocks into the yellowing sky. Ahead, a plane escapes. Whirring blades. Pitted metal. Open cockpit. The flying contraption, a gravity defying pile of airborne junk, lifts the sand beneath into a whirling trail behind. Lumis glances up at the rearview mirror dangling from the windshield, only to see his wake get consumed by a bigger storm. A sand storm. He tightens the scarf back over his nose, snug below his splattered goggles, before increasing speed.

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Where Yonder Ends

Where Yonder Ends

A short story  •  15:00 min read

 

Matthew, pull your window up.” “But Mom…”

“You’re freezing us out, pull it up.”

“But I’m feeling sick back here.”

“Then pull it up at least half way.”

Sinking into his seat with a sigh, Matthew put his cold finger on the automatic window opener. Up, down, up, down — until Dad turned the window lock on. The mountains excited Matthew for the first hour, but the winding roads were taking their toll. Even the fall leaves couldn’t lift his spirits anymore.

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America, Let’s Make Tea Time Great Again

america let us make tea time great again

A tongue-and-cheek examination of America’s dreadful — and virtually non-existent — tea culture  •  4 min read

 

Steam rises from a green mug of lemon ginger tea on a New Zealand morning. To my right, bumpy green feijoas, also known as pineapple guavas, fill my plate. To my left, ginger cookies wait to bathe in warm, gingery liquid. And it leaves me wondering: why do Americans not participate in this glorious routine known as tea time? Ask the average American if they know what an electric water kettle is and receive a blank stare in return. How did America fall to such a pitiful state of ignorance?

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Into Kenya

Why was I (really) going to Kenya?  The trip ends with a surprising answer  •  20 min read

 

Mystery murders stalk candidates.” I stared at the bold headlines of the Nairobi magazine, Saturday Standard. The murder story engrossed a woman waiting for the same flight to Kisumu as I was. After trying to disentangle meaning from the awkward phrase, my fogged brain gave up and appealed to my friend sitting next to me. Anthony shrugged his shoulders.

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The Time I Tried to Uncover Magic Kingdom’s Secret Scent

“It smells like a horse in here,” a kid proclaimed.

The monorail doors closed as we began our rapture to the magical destination. I was at Magic Kingdom twelve years ago as a 10-year-old.  Now, a 10-year-old’s observation shook me out of my vision of past memories and anticipation of the coming magic. I sniffed. It did smell like a horse. The barn air was unmistakable, but I was more surprised where I was smelling this — on a monorail taking my family to Disney.

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