Pencil in His Hand: A Mother's Journal of Stories, Thoughts, and Poems.

  A CANADIAN CONNECTION Ina felt as gloomy as the weather on this icy winter's day in Calgary. The snow lay thick already and she imagined that other people were happily skiing or building snowmen. Unlike Ina, who was all alone. These days, she chose to stay home on Saturdays and clean her apartment. Ina sighed, tears close to the surface. He had left her and chosen another. Gone. She turned away from the window: away from the falling snow and opened a drawer. She would declutter her books. She felt as though she could throw everything away. Then she saw it: between the romance novels: her grandmother's diary. Almost reverently, Ina held it in her hands. Perhaps she was meant to find it today. Curling up like a child in her easy chair, she began to read: 25 November 1975 "Dear Jesus, Yes, that sounds right. Not 'dear diary.' A diary can't help me, but You can. Oh, I hope so, I do hope so Jesus. You are the only One who can help me; the only One Who really sees...

  The Mansion: A Short Story In our time, and in our world, there lived a man in a palatial and ostentatious home. He had inherited a vast estate, and lived off of its benefits as well as the investments he had made.  The mansion  was so large, that one could easily lose count of its bedrooms when walking through its hallways. Each bedroom was luxuriously and vibrantly furnished with welcoming beds of various sizes, cozy seating, lush plants, and entertainments. The over-sized home also boasted large living areas, as well as a library and study which were any bookworm's dream. As for the grounds, they were a fantasy land, which beckoned one to stroll, play, and swim. An elite army of servants saw to it that efficiency and near perfection were maintained. But their job was made more challenging by a strange oddity of the man of the mansion. You see, he had no wife or children. Instead, he had collected many, many pets. And these pampered and spoiled pets filled the luxurio...