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Voice Like a Cello & Bear Country
Voice Like a Cello & Bear Country
Voice Like a Cello & Bear Country
Ebook25 pages20 minutes

Voice Like a Cello & Bear Country

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Two fantasy short stories about people who are haunted by (and protected by) the unseen.

In "Voice Like a Cello," a woman who is tormented by the voices of the dead travels to France for her father's wedding.

In "Bear Country," an artist living in the back country to get away from it all realizes that there's nothing protecting him from the wilderness but his art.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherKater Cheek
Release dateMay 20, 2011
ISBN9781458032119
Voice Like a Cello & Bear Country

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    Book preview

    Voice Like a Cello & Bear Country - Kater Cheek

    Voice Like a Cello and Bear Country

    By Kater Cheek

    Copyright 2011

    Smashwords Edition

    Thank you for downloading these stories. I have two stories for you, both fantasies about unseen menaces and unseen saviors. Please enjoy.

    Voice Like a Cello

    by Kater Cheek

    Anne sat in the closet for a moment, listening to the phone ring before picking it up. She’d always been fond of loud noises, as long as they were real. In the closet, her entire world was nothing but the jangling siren. She guessed who it might be, but the sound grew too insistent, so she picked up the receiver anyway.

    "Bonjour, Anne? C’est toi?" He sounded close enough to touch instead of across a continent and an ocean.

    I don’t want to speak French, Dad.

    "C’est ta langue maternelle."

    French was the language of madness, and Oradour was its home. English is my mother’s language.

    How is the weather there in Arizona? Enjoying a mild spring? It’s twenty-one degrees with blue skies, isn’t it?

    Seventy. Yes. It’s always warm here. Ho, hum, another perfect day. She’d be hating it when summer came around, but Anne didn’t choose to live there for the weather. Here, rattlesnakes and scorpions still blinked, wondering where the people came from. Funny. If she didn’t speak French, she never would have moved to a sleepy little suburb on the outskirts of Phoenix. One had to live in Paris to appreciate how wonderful it was to have a town so new.

    "Ah. I forget Fahrenheit. C’est ma faute."

    She winced at his French. He’d picked up the accent of Oradour, losing his perfect Parisian.

    I want you to come to France.

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