The title of the book has not been created yet.

There will be a chapter of a book that I am writing that will be posted here for a short duration of time. The idea is to crowd-source, to get a following and to build my reader's community.
Thank you for coming here to read what I am writing, and to post your comments. I am not looking for critiques nor the ad-hoc editor, here we are co-creating a meaningful love for the art and the magic of story-telling.

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Chapter One

Chapter One. Sharon heard the doorbell ring. She crept out of her room and stood at the top of the stairs, listening apprehensively. It rang again, jolting her to bolt downstairs, and she pulled the door open to see a short woman, standing arms akimbo, blinking in the golden October glow smiling at her. Sharon’s eyes scanned her from her red curly hair that had shed over her frayed sweat-shirt right down to her dusty, baggy pants. Sharon instantly disliked her, and she knew that her irritation showed clearly on her face. She hated to talk to anyone in the morning and the only reason she opened the door to start with was because Sharon wanted someone else to be standing there, not her ! The woman spoke in a soft voice, “Hello, I’m sorry. Um, I just moved next door,” she hesitated and then blurted ‘could I borrow a cup of milk please?” Sharon looked incredulously at the short, disheveled figure standing in her doorway and she heard herself say an equally incredulous, “Real...
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Chapter Two

Chapter Two. Sharon was sitting on the small bridge over the Credit River. The sun was warm and dragonflies hovered about. The last of the spawning salmon lay dead after their long journey’s end, scattered on the banks and in the river. Beautifully the colours of Fall leaves sprinkled gently off their trees and a few wild ducks floated idly in the slow stream. Sharon felt sick, lame and lonely. She had packed her things to leave and she needed to ponder her next move, and here she was at her muse on the river contemplating her life and where it will lead her. She had brought two suitcases upstairs to her bedroom from the basement, and had laid them open on the bed. Packing only her best clothes, her nicest shoes and all her jewellery, but on the fourth trip from the closet the bags were jammed full. “Why do I have so much stuff?” She hit her fists on her thighs in her frustration. “Fucking burn these things!” she screamed. Angrily, she settled on taking only her essentials,...
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