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Misty Springs Productions
Losing Touch
Losing Touch
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Seven short stories, totaling 155 pages from Bram Stoker Award winning author, David B. Silva. A tasty little morsel of horror and terror.
And He Who Mourns
New To The Neighborhood
Never Far From Mind
Fade In/Fade Out
Through Desmond's Eyes
Trouble Follows
Where The Past Lay Buried
Introduction
Here's the thing about storytelling ... it's all lies.
A good writer is like a good magician. He tells the story through a series of misdirections. When it's to his advantage, he shines the light in the corner instead of giving you a complete overview of the room. Other times, he shines the light on the room, and conveniently leaves the corner in the dark. It all depends on what he wants you to see and that which he wishes to go unseen. In the end, you'll see it all, of course, because lies always surface eventually. But until the end, you can never be sure how much is truth and how much is lie.
With that in mind, you should know that by their very nature, the stories you are about to read here are all lies. But they're also stories about lies. About the lies we tell the people we love most in the world … at times to deceive them, at other times to protect them. About the lies we tell ourselves when it's too difficult to face the harsh reality of the world or the even harsher reality of our places in that world.
Some are little white lies meant to be harmless.
Some are big black lies meant to harm.
They're all here.
Just like they're all around you out there.
I could tell you I wrote these stories for you, but that would be a lie. I wrote them for myself. I don't think I know how to write a story for someone else. Or maybe that's just a little white lie I like to tell myself to make it seem that what I do is all that more mysterious and noble than it really it. I'm not sure. But I am sure that when I wrote these stories I had high hopes that you would enjoy them. I always hope my stories will prove to be entertaining or thought provoking or emotionally powerful.
Still ... it's rare that I finish a story and feel confident that I've nailed it.
I'm almost never sure.
I'll try to convince myself it works and that people will enjoy it, even when it doesn't feel right. That seems to make writing the next story a little less painful, a little more hopeful. And the truth is ... sometimes I'm telling myself a little white lie and sometimes I'm not. No harm done as long as I'm not being completely delusional.
Most little white lies help us cope.
It's the big ones that get us into trouble.
So ... any lies you've told today?
And He Who Mourns
New To The Neighborhood
Never Far From Mind
Fade In/Fade Out
Through Desmond's Eyes
Trouble Follows
Where The Past Lay Buried
Introduction
Here's the thing about storytelling ... it's all lies.
A good writer is like a good magician. He tells the story through a series of misdirections. When it's to his advantage, he shines the light in the corner instead of giving you a complete overview of the room. Other times, he shines the light on the room, and conveniently leaves the corner in the dark. It all depends on what he wants you to see and that which he wishes to go unseen. In the end, you'll see it all, of course, because lies always surface eventually. But until the end, you can never be sure how much is truth and how much is lie.
With that in mind, you should know that by their very nature, the stories you are about to read here are all lies. But they're also stories about lies. About the lies we tell the people we love most in the world … at times to deceive them, at other times to protect them. About the lies we tell ourselves when it's too difficult to face the harsh reality of the world or the even harsher reality of our places in that world.
Some are little white lies meant to be harmless.
Some are big black lies meant to harm.
They're all here.
Just like they're all around you out there.
I could tell you I wrote these stories for you, but that would be a lie. I wrote them for myself. I don't think I know how to write a story for someone else. Or maybe that's just a little white lie I like to tell myself to make it seem that what I do is all that more mysterious and noble than it really it. I'm not sure. But I am sure that when I wrote these stories I had high hopes that you would enjoy them. I always hope my stories will prove to be entertaining or thought provoking or emotionally powerful.
Still ... it's rare that I finish a story and feel confident that I've nailed it.
I'm almost never sure.
I'll try to convince myself it works and that people will enjoy it, even when it doesn't feel right. That seems to make writing the next story a little less painful, a little more hopeful. And the truth is ... sometimes I'm telling myself a little white lie and sometimes I'm not. No harm done as long as I'm not being completely delusional.
Most little white lies help us cope.
It's the big ones that get us into trouble.
So ... any lies you've told today?
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