What Were You Thinking?" Bast Said With

I Know," She Said. "you Have A Stone In Your Heart, And Some Days It's So Heavy There Is Nothing To Be Done. But You Don't Have To Be Alone For It. You Should Have Come To Me. I Understand.

My Granda Always Told Me That Fall's The Time To Root Up Something You Don't Want Coming Back To Trouble You.' Kote Mimicked The Quaver Of An Old Man's Voice. 'things Are Too Full Of Life In The Spring Months. In The Summer, They're Too Strong And Won't Let Go. Autumn...' He Looked Around At The Changing Leaves On The Trees. 'autumn's The Time. In Autumn Everything Is Tired And Ready To Die.

The Truth Is I've Worked A Lot Of Things People Would Consider Shitty Jobs But I've Never Really Hated Any Of Them.

Then I Felt Something Inside Me Break And Music Began To Pour Out Into The Quiet. My Fingers Danced; Intricate And Quick They Spun Something Gossamer And Tremulous Into The Circle Of Light Our Fire Had Made. The Music Moved Like A Spiderweb Stirred By A Gentle Breath, It Changed Like A Leaf Twisting As It Falls To The Ground, And It Felt Like Three Years Waterside In Tarbean, With A Hollowness Inside You And Hands That Ached From The Bitter Cold.

The Framed Tale Is, In My Opinion, One Of The Most Natural Ways To Tell A Story. If You Think Of It, The Conceit Of The Frame-less Story Is Actually The Odd Way Of Doing Things. Without The Frame, How Do You Know The Context For A Story?