Scripting the Truth – Virtual Book Tour

Monday is the universally hated day of the week, mostly because the things we look forward to tend to happen during the weekend. But I am here to present you with something that will make your day better! I have the honor of hosting the first stop on T. A. Henry’s Virtual Book Tour. As their first novel is about to be launched, you’ll have the chance to read excerpts from the novel itself and the opportunity to get to know the author. Additional info available by visiting their blog – don’t be shy and stop by!

For now, please enjoy an excerpt of their novel titled Scripting the Truth, followed by an interview with T. A. Henry herself!

Scripting the Truth Front cover finalStriding quickly across the house I located my mother in her sun room with a copy of Vogue newly sent airmail from across the pond. “I’m heading back to London by the eleven fifteen.”
Her slight startle revealed how absorbed by the new fashions she was. “Already, darling? You just came down by the four forty yesterday.”
I started to reply but she continued before I could decide on my defensive strategy.
“Your father and I wanted to talk to you.” Her voice held a plaintive note.
“Yes, I know. We discussed things this morning.”
“Don’t take on so. We just want to see you settled. Married perhaps?”
I kept my tone light. “Not a man on the horizon I’m afraid.”
“There could be if you weren’t so flighty. Stay down here. The hunting season will be starting soon. All the eligible bachelors of proper station will be spending huge swaths of time in the neighborhood.”
I ground my teeth to keep from telling her what I thought of men of a proper station. “I’ll come back down. You let me know when the situation is promising.” I smiled and hoped this would be enough to get me out the door.
Her excitement immediately went up a notch. “That is a wonderful idea. Why don’t I arrange a weekend shooting party? When shall we?”
I wanted to put the brakes on this out of control disaster but she was moving forward at a spitfire pace.
Swinging her legs off the edge of the fainting couch she strode across to her writing desk to consult the calendar there. “Three weeks you think? Or maybe four? I think four weeks to make sure I can really guarantee a good attendance. I’ll pencil that in.”
I swallowed hard. How to tell my mother this was not at all what I had meant. It was beyond impossible. Brigadier General Wingate always said we could do the impossible in a day but miracles took a bit longer. And this needed a miracle. It was time for me to bow out quickly. I could take my time in London to work out the details of my permanent escape from the safety of distance. “I must dash to make the train. Charles is waiting with the car.”
My mother crossed quickly to me and placed a kiss on my cheek. I allowed the embrace and briefly hugged her back, if one could call it a hug when you placed your hands on someone’s arms and mentally restrained yourself from shoving them bodily away from you.
I breathed a big sigh of relief as I slid into the back of the Rolls Royce Silver Wraith. “Drive Charles and be quick about it. I can’t miss this train.”
“Yes milady.” Charles nodded his understanding.
As we rolled out the gates I felt tension start to ebb from my shoulders. I would have liked to imagine my mother meant well. But I knew what was best for me was the last thing on her mind. She was only acting according to what she knew, to the dictates of her world. Marry off your daughter and marry her off well. I was her only daughter. My war service had been a huge strain on her, so far was it from her idea of appropriate behavior for someone of my status. My brothers went at the first sign of trouble and although she cried she was proud. I couldn’t understand why I should be any different. We just lived in different worlds, with rules as far apart as the Sun and Moon. By the time I finished these musings we were pulling up to the station in Portsmouth. I would catch the London express here.

  • Give us a short introduction of who you are.

I am a Pacific Northwest transplant who loves it here. I am a stay at home mom who home schools her only kiddo. I hike, crochet, and yoga with all my spare time. LOL. I like to think I am funny. I hear I am a good friend. I think the secret to that is I have very little judgement.

  • Do you remember when you first started writing, and why?
The first thing I remember writing was a poem on environmental concerns for a poetry contest when I was in third or fourth grade maybe. It was not a positive experience. They hung up all the works in the local public library with what ribbon: first, second, third, or honorable mention. I was the only one without a ribbon of some sort on my poem. I cried for days.
  • Some authors have their own habits and rituals, others like waiting for creativity to pay them a visit. What’s your writing process?
I usually wait for creativity to hit. But I write down every little idea that flies by me. So then when I need a topic for Nanowrimo I flip through  my idea book and see what attacks me. Then I go to the library and get books, lots of books. I read everything I can about the idea, anything that might possibly apply. I think that’s the crux of my process, research. Probably more than is reasonable but having so many little bits of information available when I am writing gives me options. It makes it harder to write myself into a corner.
  • Do you read a lot? What do you look for in a book?
I read as much as I can. I do make an effort to get through as many as I can, as I post a book review every week and I try not to review books I haven’t read immediately before reviewing, it feels unfair to the work. I mostly read non fiction with a smattering of brain pudding books, ie fluffy fiction that requires no effort to get through – slides down like vanilla pudding.
  • A book of course is a collection of many elements – settings, plot, characters, conflicts, etc. Which one would you say is the strongest suit of your book?
wow. Um. LOL. Ok so I think what I bring to the table is a combination of characters and dialogue. I have great dialogue. There’s always a touch of humor sprinkling through. I like life to be an adventure. I try to make my books feel a bit like that.
  • How much of a challenge was completing this novel?
This novel was cake. Total cake. I loved it. It practically wrote itself. I know it sounds like total malarkey but it’s true. Now my spy novel on the other hand is like a root canal with no Novocaine while having broken bones set by a mortician. Yeah.
  • Any fun facts or interesting anecdotes about the novel or its creation that you can share?
I wrote Scripting the Truth during Nanowrimo, my third one, and it was the first time I ever won.
  • Now that this novel is ready, what are you keeping busy with? Can we expect other novels in the future?
Right now I am working out all my marketing and trying to prepare for this year’s Nanowrimo. I will be writing a murder mystery. I am super excited to kill some people off and have it not be a huge dramatic thing. LOL.
  • Is there any advice you want to give to aspiring authors?
Do not listen to any voice that tells you, you can’t. Whether it’s your own voice or someone else’s.

Thank you, T. A. Henry for this opportunity and for your time. Hope the launch goes smoothly and there’s lots more to come after Scripting the Truth!

Top Ten Thursday: A Song of Ice and Fire Characters

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I’ve been sort of missing these past few days, but in my defense I had valid reasons. Got a new job and who knew that a job involved preparing and working? The other reason why I could not get to post this yesterday was because my internet was having a tantrum. So instead of torturing myself I decided to leave this for the next day, and to make up for it I’ll be posting a second TTT feature as well (sometime later today).

For this first one, we’re going with A Song of Ice and Fire Characters (I’m using the books and not the show because I’m not entirely happy with the direction the show’s taking and some of my favorite book characters aren’t as great on the screen). I will only be providing images and quotes without any commentaries so that I do not give away any spoilers to the character arcs. The reasons why they’re picked in the listed order is because of how well written the characters were or how enjoyable their chapters were.

10. Samwell Tarly

“Sam thought of all the trials that he and Gilly suffered, Craster’s Keep and the death of the Old Bear, snow and ice and freezing winds, days and days and days of walking, the wights at Whitetree, Coldhands and the tree of ravens, the Wall, the Wall, the Wall, the Black Gate beneath the earth. What had it all been for? No happy choices and no happy endings.” ~ Sam’s thoughts.

9. Ser Barristan Selmy (Barristan the Bold)

“Have no fear, sers, your king is safe… no thanks to you. Even now, I could cut through the five of you as easy as a dagger cuts cheese. If you would serve under the Kingslayer, not a one of you is fit to wear the white. Here, boy. Melt it down and add it to the others, if you like. It will do you more good than the swords in the hands of these five. Perhaps Lord Stannis will chance to sit on it when he takes your throne.” ~ Barristan on his forced retirement as a Kingsguard.

8. Cersei Lannister

“I am a lioness. I will not cringe for them.” ~ Cersei’s thoughts.

7. Sandor Clegane (The Hound)

“Spare me your empty little compliments, girl . . . and your ser’s. I am no knight. I spit on them and their vows. My brother is a knight.” ~ Sandor to Sansa Stark

6. Arya Stark

“A long time ago, she remembered her father saying that when the cold wind blows the lone wolf dies but the pack survives. He had it all backwards. Arya, the lone wolf, still lived, but the wolves of the pack had been taken and slain and skinned.” ~ Arya’s thoughts.

5. Theon Greyjoy (Reek)

“Only a fool humbles himself when the world is so full of men eager to do that job for him.” ~ Theon to Asha Greyjoy (disguised under an alias)

4. Brienne (Brienne the Beauty)

“All my life men like you’ve sneered at me, and all my life I’ve been knocking men like you into the dust.” ~ Brienne to Jaime Lannister.

3. Davos Seaworth

“I am a man. I am kind to my wife, but I have known other women. I have tried to be a father to my sons, to help make them a place in this world. Aye, I’ve broken laws, but I never felt evil until tonight. I would say my parts are mixed, m’lady. Good and bad.” ~ Davos to Melisandre

2. Tyrion Lannister (The Imp)

“My mind is my weapon. My brother has his sword, King Robert has his warhammer and I have my mind… and a mind needs books as a sword needs a whetstone if it is to keep its edge. That’s why I read so much, Jon Snow.” ~ Tyrion to Jon Snow

1. Jaime Lannister (The Kingslayer)

“He felt a bone-deep ache in his phantom fingers. I’ve lost a hand, a father, a son, a sister, and a lover, and soon enough I will lose a brother. And yet they keep telling me House Lannister has won this war.” ~ Jaime’s thoughts.

30 Days of NaNoWriMo

As I mentioned in the Camp NaNoWriMo Winner post, I’m still missing the last 8 days in my 30 days writing adventure (see 7 Days, 14 Days, and 22 Days of NaNoWriMo for the previous days). Well, here they are!

  • Day #23: If you pretend you’ve just started writing, would it become easier?

The main issue with WriMo, at least for myself, is how the whole thing become excruciating the longer you’re doing. The start is easier because you’re excited, you have an idea you feel great about, it feels like sunshine and rainbows. But as you dwell deeper and deeper into the story and spend more and more time writing, you feel the need to put it aside. Yet the whole point is not to do that, so whatcha gonna do?

  • Day #24: Just 1 week left… Which sounds like torture, considering I’ve been doing this for 3 weeks.

It. Does. Not. Get. Better. You’d think being near the end and reaching your goal should give you the mythical boost you so need right about now. Maybe you’re too far away from the end? Yeah, last-minute boosts are more like your thing, but you can’t really complete the 30K words on the last day.

  • Day #25: Mercy, mercy! Just shoot me already.

Chinese water torture has nothing on monthly writing months. I feel like Dolores Umbridge’s sitting next to me, chuckling at the sight of horror I’m in while attempting to catch up with my word count. Except the word count’s not my issue, but the inability to move beyond some plot points. The failure to continue writing the story I wanted to tell.

  • Day #26: What was I supposed to be writing about?

By now my brain has probably gone into retirement and I’m more zombie than human. I can’t think, I can’t function, but we’ve got just a few days left and somehow I’m still typing. I say typing because I’m not sure the stuff that’s coming up on the screen can be considered writing.

  • Day #27: If no one wants to shoot me, I’ll just start breaking stuff.

If you believe I’m joking, that’s some serious wishful thinking. When you spend a month doing heavy writing you start feeling like the Hulk. Enraged, full with strength you want to throw around at any chance you find. Starting from the not-so-lovely place you used for writing in the first place.

  • Day #28: Don’t stop the music writing. 

Maybe if you drink another bucket of coffee and stay up all night you’ll get ahead of your goal in a single day. Or maybe you’ll put yourself in a coma and sleep through next year’s writing months. Both options sound appealing so you give it a go.


Since validation can ultimately be done on the last day at latest, the 30th is never that important for me. My goal is being prepared for that day, so that I’m not frantically trying to come up with crap just to finish the whole event before the last minute clocks out. It also lets me enjoy that last day with joy and gratitude while looking back at what I’ve accomplished in the previous days. However, it also means that I’m one day short in the month and that my 29th day is always a witch with a B. The only way to get through such a day, is to remain hopeful and keep yourself motivated.

  • Day #30: Best month ever!

[Yes, I’m using an Obama gif for this] IT’S OOOOOVER!! Okay that thought makes me sad about it, but I can just glance at what I’ve written and it puts a smile on my face (that’s when I’m reading stuff from the early days, the writing from the last couple days make me want to hug the desk with my face). If I wasn’t tired I’d be jumping up and down with joy the whole day. It’s profound happiness, makes you wonder what other accomplishments feel like this.

As I said in a previous post, congrats to both those who did and didn’t manage to complete their Camp NaNoWriMo goals. Just remember that once you recharge the batteries you should tie yourself to the chair once again (for writing, not for kinky business).Strike while the iron is hot, don’t make your writing any harder by letting the idea fly away.

The North Remembers


“Foes and false friends are all around me, Lord Davos. They infest my city like roaches, and at night I feel them crawling over me.” The fat man’s fingers coiled into a fist, and all his chins trembled. “My son Wendel came to the Twins a guest. He ate Lord Walder’s bread and salt, and hung his sword upon the wall to feast with his friends. And they murdered him. Murdered, I say, and may the Freys choke upon their fables. I drink with Jared, jape with Symond, promise Rhaegar the hand of my own beloved granddaughter…but never think that means I have forgotten. The north remembers, Lord Davos. The north remembers, and the mummer’s farce is almost done. My son is home.

The screenshots are from Season 5 Episode 3 of Game of Thrones. Quote is Wyman Manderly talking to Davos Seaworth in A Dance With Dragon, the fifth book in the A Song of Ice and Fire book series. I felt it was a matching quote, chances are I won’t see the quote played out in the show so might as well relate it to what we get.

Camp NaNoWriMo Winner

Camp NaNo Winner Banner

I guess this is where a photo of my writing pens in flexing pose would go. Or a photo of my keyboard flexing, or whatever the equivalent of a writer’s biceps flexing would be. But maybe that lovely banner up there is just enough to get the point across. My goal for 2015’s Camp NaNoWriMo was 30,000 words. Understandably that might not feel like a big deal and it’s obviously almost half of what the traditional NaNoWriMo is. Yet, for anyone who has been following my weekly updates on the matter (7 Days, 14 Days, 22 Days, and a recap of the last week will probably follow tomorrow when hopefully my brain is more cooperative), it should be fairly clear that April is a ridiculously busy month for me.

Not only are there a lot of holidays (which contrary to what one might expect, take away your free time instead of giving you more), there’s a also my birthday, my volunteering as moderator at four different places, some job hunting, and a lot more I’m unable to list at the moment (mostly because my brain is trying to erase any knowledge of them so I’ll never think about them). On top of all that there might have been traces of a social life. That’s mainly why I went for 30K instead of 50K, which I knew wasn’t going to happen. And I’m not using that as an excuse, it’s more of a clarifier.

Everyone who has attempted NaNoWriMo of any form does not need excuses for how bad they’ve done. It’s not a job and it’s not for anyone else but yourself. It’s a personal project based on a hobby and when all is said and done the only thing that matters is that one is satisfied with their own final result. That being said, I’m ecstatic about my own results. Not solely because I’ve managed to write the freaking 30K I promised myself I’ll reach by the end of the month, but because I’m impressed with the story so far. Yep, so far, it’s not actually done yet. In fact, t might be a long while before it’s completed. While I’ve managed to write roughly 1000 words every day for 30 days, I cannot keep up that pace throughout the whole year — while I may act like it at times, I’m not a robot. Though that’d be pretty cool.

Anyway, it’s been a long day for me and I feel I’ve had enough of words, phrases, sentences, and paragraphs for now. I should get a proper rest and probably do some catching up with the TV shows I follow. I do hope all of you are enjoying your week, and for everyone else who manages to hit their Camp NaNoWriMo target, congratulations (and late congrats to all those who did so in the past several days)! To those who attempted but didn’t quite hit the mark, even bigger congratulations! You’ve done your best, tested the waters, explored the grounds, yada yada — it should help you accomplish your goal on your next run. Merlin knows we all fail, definitely more frequently than we win, so don’t let that discourage you and keep working. Rome wasn’t built in a day, even though you’re certainly free to try.

I’m off to do a victory dance and cuddle with my bed.

Mine’s not as good but you get the point.

Reader Problems Book Tag

I’m tired, sore, and ridiculously cranky. This translates to I’m not in the condition to write nor create anything out of thin air. Instead, I’m stealing another tag from Story and Somnomancy, and yes, it’s another book-ish one.


1) You have 20,000 books on your TBR. How in the world do you decide what to read next?

I can easily cut down the number based on what I’m planning to read next. I usually (sort of) know what I’m looking to read and if I can divide those books by genre the list should get way shorter. If I want to get super technical I can also do a selection based on how big a book is — if I know I don’t have the time to commit to a large book, I reach for the ones with less pages.

But I imagine at the end of all of it I’ll just pick something randomly. I have less trouble picking a book to read, I have more trouble getting through my TBR.

2) You’re halfway through a book and you’re just not loving it. Do you quit or commit?

I rarely drop a book for good. If I find it extremely dull I will likely just put a bookmark and leave it for another time. And by another time I mean some unknown point in the future when my brain goes “Hey, remember a while ago you were reading that book you didn’t quite like? I wanna give it another go.”

3) The end of the year is coming and you’re so close, yet so far away on your Goodreads Reading Challenge. Do you quit or commit?

This has already happened and I’ll be honest here, I quit. The thing is, if I had the time I would have devoured the books I’ve decided to read in that year. Plus, “the end of the year is nearing” is a period which tends to be rather busy for me, no matter what year it is. I know my strengths just as I’m aware of my weakness, I wouldn’t be able to do it (unless I had a magical item such as a Timeturner, which conveniently lets me go back in time and catch up).

4) The covers of a series you love DO. NOT. MATCH. How do you cope?

Ugh. Why would you put that thought in my head? I would most likely try to avoid the issue as long as I can, and separate the books on my shelf to avoid that horror show in my brain whenever I glance at it. Eventually, when the wallet allows it, I’d buy a set with matching covers and give away the old ones.

5) Everyone and their mother loves a book you really don’t like. Who do you bond with over shared feelings?

This rarely happens as most of the folks around here aren’t particularly fond of books. Didn’t you know, not reading is cool on the streets? It’s the worst plague humanity has seen in its existence, a fear and shame of books. Not to diminish the damage done by plagues in history, but I think this one will be the end of us.

Anyway, should this scenario take place, I have a number of online friends with whom I rant/complain about such things.

6) You’re reading a book and you’re about to start crying in public. How do you deal?

I don’t see that happening. I don’t read in public, the furthest I would take a book from my home is our yard. The only case where it could happen is if I was on the beach, but then it’s super easy — sunglass! Duh. SUNGLASSES!

7) A sequel of a book you loved just came out, but you’ve forgotten a lot from the prior novel. Will you re-read the book? Skip the sequel? Try to find the synopsis on Goodreads? Cry in frustration?

I would say that it depends on how much time I have available. I’d prefer re-reading the book, but if the odds are against me and I cannot make that happen, I would likely just look up synopsis online. Or, even better, if there’s an audio book of the same, I might just put that to play in the background while I’m doing another task.

8) You do not want ANYONE borrowing your books. How do you politely tell people nope when they ask?

I’d just straight-out tell them I’m clingy about my books and I cannot in good conscience borrow them to anyone due to fear of not getting them back or even worse, have them returned in a butchered state. You ruin my books, you be damn sure I’ll be haunting you in your dreams. Okay I may leave out the last part, I forgot we were aiming for a polite tone.

9) You’ve picked up and put down five books in the past month. How do you get over your slump?

I’d resort to munching on TV Shows or playing video games. Whenever I hit a hard time with anything, I know I just need an unhealthy dose of “bad entertainment” (tv, video games, vines, cat videos, etc.). Afterward it’s like someone has hit the reboot button and I’m back to functioning normally.

10) There are so many new books coming out that you’re dying to read! How many do you actually buy?

Depends on the money I can spare. Yes, deep down I’ll probably want to buy them all and maybe even buy myself a large library while I’m at it. Both so I can have a place for them and so I can read with peace and quiet. But in reality I know I’ll just make a list of all of them and then see how many I can cross off that list. Whatever I’m unable to buy at that time will eventually find itself on a future book shopping list.

11) After you’ve bought the new books you can’t wait to get to, how long do they sit on your shelf until you actually read them?

Some don’t make it to the shelf as I get to them right away, others are still sitting on the shelf and waiting their turn. Hey, I’ll get to the poor books right after someone makes my day last 25 hours. Not that I don’t want even more hours than that, but I’ll be fair and settle at 25.


I’m tagging anyone reading this. Mostly because, as mentioned at the beginning, I’m in no state or mood to come up with lists of names. Plus, ain’t it more fun when we can all chime in on a topic?

Short Story Sunday: Letters to No One

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The old black teapot was fuming, signaling it’s had enough of that heat and wants to get off the stove right now. Mr. Blinchley on the other hand was in no rush, he lived alone and rarely had company so he enjoyed any sound that broke off the monotone silence, even if it came from a teapot. Plus he felt cold, despite the fireplace going, and a cup of hot tea would help with that more than a barely warm one. It was April, the week of Easter, but it appeared that the weather missed the memo. The temperature was dropping with each passing day instead of rising as it should, so Mr. Blinchley penned it a winter in disguise in his letters.

Maybe it wasn’t just the weather though, Arthur Blinchley was about to enter his ninetieth year of life and age certainly makes some adjustments to the weather forecast. It makes the winds feel heavier, the rain louder, and the sun weaker. Mostly it makes the cold feel colder, and puts a man a season or so behind in attire. For everything beyond that, he decided it’s all a matter of personal choice. We ourselves choose when we give up, when not to get out of bed, and when we stop doing the things we love. The answer Mr. Blinchley was aiming to leave as an example for everyone else was never. That’s why on his work desk where his favorite chair was situated, lied a pile of letters.

Letters were like a piece of magic for him. And since magic strayed from the ordinary and mundane, he never sent any letters around Christmas anymore. He preferred waiting till the Easter holidays. The few months between the two holidays gave him just about the right time he needed to read several times the letters he received, and then to come up with just the right responses they deserved. The longer he was with them the more special they felt. He had set on a mission to live his days alone, and for better or worse he found he excelled at the task. Yet every now and then he felt the loneliness creep in behind his mind and give him distant memories, enchant his dreams with company, force him to wake up with a craving for friendship. The letters helped him with that. They reassured him he still has all that even though nowadays he rarely sees anyone but the milkman, the newspaper boy, and the employees in the shop across the street.

With the cup of tea in his hands to warm the old bones, Mr. Blinchley sat down at his desk, admiring the handwriting he’s mastered over the years. If those letters did not include personal details and told the dreary tale of his life, they might have been considered a piece of art. At least he wanted to think so. Just as he often thought of the excitement these letters might give to his carefully selected recipients. Yet he knew the truth, especially with this new age and technology, is that most of them were likely uncomfortable or ashamed to be receiving and sending written letters.

Arthur Blinchley also pondered why the letters have not been sent yet. You see, they were already written, signed, placed in lovely light yellow envelopes, unpleasantly licked and carefully closed. Now they were simply sitting as a pile, gathering dust and reminding him that one of these cold days he need to put on an extra sweater and head down to drop them off in the closest main box. But for a reason he could not quite perceive, he did everything but that. He even managed to do some household chores he was so diligently putting off as if he had hoped one day when he wakes up they’d all be done in some mysterious way. And while Arthur still found the thought of magic endearing, he didn’t quite fancy mysteries, he just really wished the housekeeping would get done on its own for once.

Not today, he told himself. In his ninety years of life, that was one of the easiest phrases he could tell himself. It appeared simple and short, clean and sweet, even though deep inside it was the root of all things evil and lazy. Might be that’s the plans of villains never go as planned, they always tell themselves not today whenever it comes to executing them. Heroes don’t do that, heroes act. But Arthur had no trouble chewing on that thought, he hadn’t been a hero his whole life so why would he seek that now? Plus heroes were never old either, if they could not save the world at the age of ninety, how could anyone expect Mr. Blinchley to do the things he did in his prime?

Between spinning thoughts during his time at the desk and watching an episode of whatever that was on the TV that he couldn’t recognize, Arthur forgot to have a look at the clock. “Funny thing, time. We stop doing things on its account, but it never stops for us”, Mr. Blinchley thought to himself as he moved to get to his bed. He had what might have been one of the best nights of sleep, even though he might have said that the night before, and the night before that. It was a common occurrence for him to enjoy his sleep.

Yet, as he moved across his apartment, Arthur fell a heavy weight fall on top of him. He extended his arms and leaned toward his favorite chair for support, but failed and made things worse. By pushing the chair down he hurt his left arm when he fell with it on top of the chair. The whole event rumbled the place and the pile of letters fell on top of him. Lying there on the ground, next to his favorite chair and among some of his prized possessions, the letters he wrote to his friends, Mr. Blinchley pondered once again why he didn’t send the letter sooner. Was he too old for such a task? Or did the procrastination delay the thoughts that yet another year of his life had passed? Was it fear kept him back?

In his final moments, Arthur felt maybe it is better that the letters didn’t reach anyone. Maybe it will be a better form of goodbye than any note or words he may have sent them. Sure, his handwriting looked beautiful even though his hand shook when he wrote, but maybe the letters he wrote weren’t worthy of being his last words to his friends. Funny, he thought to himself, we rarely look at it what way and hardly ever accept it, but time does stop on our account.