It all began when Rusty passed away. The grief gnawed at Kete's soul and he sought relief in New Hampshire. He was so pleased and felt so lucky that he found that little shard of glass when he visited Rusty's old house. He would have something to keep as a remembrance of his sister. Once he was released from that sadness, his desire to develop his relationship with Dolly opened up and continued his joy. Their trip to Salem had proved fruitful to bring back his itch to write. Back at home in Maple Valley, Washington with Dolly by his side, Kete felt the thrill as he started to write again....

I walked around the gallery and stopped to look at various paintings, but when I came upon one piece in particular, I lingered and pondered within my spirit what I saw. A couple was so focused on their individual feelings that there was nothing that would call their attention away to anything but what was hidden within them. They wouldn't hear or mind the rattles, clacks, and the metallic clunks of the train. Neither people buzzing with conversation, nor a camera flashing from across the aisle would stir them. Most importantly, they didn't even turn to one another. Why? One photograph frozen...

I walked around the gallery and stopped to look at various paintings, but when I came upon one piece in particular, I lingered and pondered within my spirit what I saw. A couple was so focused on their individual feelings that there was nothing that would call their attention away to anything but what was hidden within them. They wouldn't hear or mind the rattles, clacks, and the metallic clunks of the train. Neither people buzzing with conversation, nor a camera flashing from across the aisle would stir them. Most importantly, they didn't even turn to one another. Why? One photograph frozen...

The contagion came from her Honduran past. Its source was that of a hacienda situated upon pristine land, well-manicured, and tended by gauchos of an innocent looking demeanor. The hacienda was a sham and the innocent appearance of staff and acreage was the devil's design. Here I am again, rapt and attentive to Sarah's further exploits and adventures. Again, do not consider me the author of what was one of the nastiest times in her life. I am but a narrator. Satandor slithers from a time long past. He knew Moses, rebuked the spiritual life of a Levite tending his loamy fields around that...

It is La Maupin. La Maupin's life is a flame. And then expires too quickly. She dies at only the age of thirty three. This French beauty has a panoply of talents far ranging and effective. The span is from an operatic contralto on the Paris stage to the rarest of them all, a female fencing master; from taking a nun's vows to eschewing decency in a lifetime rife with sexual experimentation; from crimes against the Crown and King to convincing that Sun King to spare her the indignity of being executed; from the heights of a near royal birthright to an unknown pauper's grave of no concern to...