For readers who absolutely insist upon "normality"in drafting prose, my best (and singular) suggestion is to just simplyskip all of my stories and mov...e on (as such readers are vocally moresatisfied with the more traditional representations of writing anyway.Those readers are entitled to their own aspirations to continue tosubmit their writings for the supposed "public good" with hopes ofsomeday making it into "mainstream" literary circles. Those readers arealso entitled to puruse their apparent. ’ ‘I’m going to go get some stuff and slide it down the hill. When the girls get home, I’ll explain.’ My old conveyor belts were still working after I used them for moving fill when I built my house. I used Ann’s truck to go get an old platform that used to be part of the stairs to get into my garage before the grading and cement work. The ladies were all ears but very skeptical and unsure about all the work. ‘Here is what we are going to try. The sand will be on that ledge. This platform will. We would always make eye contact and give a nod and a smile, and some would stop and make small chat about the weather or if the fish were biting. There was one older guy in his late 60's or early 70's who was a little friendlier and a little chattier than the rest. His name was Lawrence, but everyone called him Laurie for short. He would smile a great toothy grin and was quick to laugh at his own jokes, his eyes scrunched up behind his thick spectacles. His hair was salt and pepper and he. Orc parties are raiding village after village along the Widow's Coast, noblemen poison, scheme and assassinate each other in their eternal game of power with little care for the common folk, anti-magic zealotry is growing to a fever pitch, the slave trade is alive and well in the Malenkii Empire especially for beautiful lithe elven women and there are whispers of necromancers brewing plagues and raising skeletal armies under the shadow of Ebony Spine. Perhaps worst of all, the fragile peace.