#farytude

By Farytude Arthur Benette stood by the window of his cottage, watching the last leaves spiral down from the old oak tree. November had carried a weight for him these past four years. It was the month his wife, Margaret, had passed away. He had loved her dearly and could not seem to forget the memories of her. Though only fifty-six, a handsome man with greying hair and green eyes, grief had…

By Farytude The door was hidden behind a soft bell of swaying grass. She had walked past the path many times, but never stepped inside. Today, though, was different. She decided to enter, searching for a book on grief – something for her aunt, who was going through the pain of losing her husband. It was an old bookstore, with a small portion reserved for sitting and reading, like a library. The…