Erin Hanson Poetry Books Novels & Stories

On Thursday, the other two books arrived. Ernest saw them on the hall table before Don did—a collection of essays by a Greek poet whose name Ernest did not recognize, and a slim volume about the food of northern Greece, specifically Thessaloniki. The food book was the smallest of the three, but it had been placed precisely on top of the other two, and Ernest recognized the placement as Don's—the particular organization of someone who had thought about the order of reading. The food book would be third. The essays would be second. The Byzantine history was first, and Don was already a hundred pages into it. At dinner, Ernest said: "Three books."

I close the door quietly. I spend an hour in the smaller library looking at the books. He has everything. Fiction. Nonfiction. Art books. History. A whole shelf of poetry that looks like it has never been touched. I pull out a volume of Mary Oliver and flip through it. Someone has dog-eared a page. I read the poem. "Wild Geese." I read it twice.

She wondered why every little thing he did affected her when it didn't happen like that with Daniel and she was meeting the guy for the first time! "Um... I have to go." She grabbed her bag from under her seat and stood up hastily. "It was nice meeting you Ethan." She smiled shyly. Ethan stood up and handed her the spiral bind book. "I believe Harry still owes you an apology." "What's this?" She opened the book and gasped when she realized what it was. "I thought... he said his dog ate it, right?" "I might have threatened to castrate him if he didn't find a way to return it to you." Ethan shrugged.

I inspected the grounds. I plunged towards the thick snow and buttoned my coat, slowly pacing towards the abandoned tent. I see no sign of human life but a newly built campfire, just as I thought. I looked around. "They must have stayed here." The tent was shredded, some of its cloth grazed on the ground. I saw pots, utensils and a few books. I grab the books and skimmed through the pages. There were pictures of weird-looking plants and some alphabets I couldn't understand. Was this the herbalist's textbook?

"Did she like reading novels? Mystery or thrillers? Something related to murders? “ Usually, teenagers are interested in murder mysteries that offer them thrills. Reading poetry is rather normal, but Noh Kyung-hee doesn’t seem like a foolish and romantic girl to her. "Yes, she liked reading them. Her room is full of books. She also liked reading romance and non-fiction. She was the type who would pick up novels randomly from the library with her eyes closed." Ok Min Ji recalls with an amused look in her eyes, "She liked to go to the city library whenever she was free." Ahn Hana asks her the final question, "What's the name of that poetry book?" "Ocean in the sky." *** Ahn Hana doesn’t go bac

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be constructed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental. All I Ask of You (Heron’s Landing Book 2) Published by Blue Violet Press LLC Seattle, Washington Copyright © 2016, 2020 by Iris Morland Cover design by Qamber Designs

An hour later, after searching for anything to help us within books that ranged from brand new to hundreds of years old, I huffed with disappointment and decided to stretch my legs; my pale finger trailed over the spines of books, dust painting my fingertip. Once I reached the poetry section, I smiled brightly. All around me were books from Silvia Plath, Edgar Allan Poe, Emily Dickson, Robert Frost, and many others that were like my old friends. Taking a random book off the shelf, I flipped through its contents. "(...) Sing your death song, and die like a hero going home." ~ Tecumseh "You enjoy poetry too?" A familiar voice spoke behind me, making my heart speed up as I jumped slightly. Turn

~ONE MONTH EARLIER~ The atmosphere was cold, despite the fact that the sun was shining high in the sky. Maybe it was because of the towering trees that shielded the lives beneath from the sun's warmth. It could have also been because the sun had just begun to take its place in the sky. Or maybe it was because of the emptiness in Mariana Rosette's heart. Mariana's horse trotted through the quiet woods. Her two companions also followed quietly behind her on their horses. No one said a word.

“You look like a kid in a candy store.” “Don’t mock me. This is sacred.” She darted down an aisle, running her fingers reverently across the spines of novels. Reid trailed behind, occasionally pulling out a book to skim but he’s behind her each time. At one point, he stopped and held up a book. “This one.” Raees blinked. “What is it?” He handed it to her. “The woman on the cover page reminded me of you.” She turned the cover over, seeing the face, then she smiled, proceeding to read the title. It was a collection of poems centering on different topics, some love, some strength, some just stories written . “Reid…”