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Tales of Corwin

Adam Brooks Webber

Tales of Corwin

A weekly Arts and Books podcast
Good podcast? Give it some love!
Tales of Corwin

Adam Brooks Webber

Tales of Corwin

Episodes
Tales of Corwin

Adam Brooks Webber

Tales of Corwin

A weekly Arts and Books podcast
Good podcast? Give it some love!
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Episodes of Tales of Corwin

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That Wednesday night, Sandra took the evening off, and she invited Mark out for a date night at the tavern. She had thought a long time about the setting. The house felt like home to her now, and Brigit’s Hearth was a place most magical. In the
“Okay then,” said Timi. She took a deep breath. “Well. According to my vision, there’s a way—a way for you to do the work you love, and stay in Corwin, and help to heal the world. And all we have to do is figure out what it is.”John laughed.
And then it was the next afternoon, and Timi was waiting on the platform. And there was John Quick, in his long coat, with a laptop bag in one hand and a carry-on in the other. He paused in the door of the train, at the top of the steps, and to
She drew a breath, and everyone was silent, suddenly aware of the significance of what they were about to do. “Barefoot, if you please,” she said.They all took off shoes and socks. Sandra and Mark led the way to the basement stairs, and the R
Mark and Sandra had so many other things on their minds that they were both surprised when they discovered a pressing commitment on the calendar: the Wiccan festival of Imbolc was only a few days away, and before that, they had a class to prepa
Upstairs, she roused Mark from his recliner. “Mark,” she said. “Mark Lucifer! I need you in the basement. Something strange is going on down there.”Mark’s eyes popped open. Her tone of voice must have told him something serious was afoot. “Ju
By the next morning, Sandra’s fever was gone, and she was feeling reasonably well—still a little shaky, but not in any need of help to go up and down stairs. Mark was another matter. He had slept fitfully: quite a lot, with the help of Lois’ co
Sandra woke from a deep sleep and realized that she was drenched in sweat. Her PJs, her sheets, her pillow, all soaked. Even her hair seemed to be wet. Yuck. She sat up and flung the soggy covers off of herself. She felt light-headed, and weak
Mark put on all the winter gear he had, with an empty backpack underneath his coat. He went out the back door, closed it firmly behind him, and walked down the back steps onto the screened porch. The wind was roaring around the house, and a fin
Mark stepped out of his front door the next morning and was immediately aware of the threat. There was some kind of odd reversal going on: it was harder to breathe outdoors than in, more claustrophobic under the sky than inside the house. He fo
Sandra was worried about Mark. He’d told her about Clare Tannerman. There had been a shuttered look about him—no telling what was going on behind his eyes, when they looked like that. Then he’d gone out to clear some snow. Two hours later, he w
Clare Tannerman’s tiny house was cold, and she was sitting in a rocking chair when they checked on her. She was shivering, and her speech was slurred. Her eyes looked feverish, but her skin felt cool—maybe too cool. There were plenty of blanket
When the snow started Tuesday afternoon, Mark looked up the forecast. He hadn’t really been paying attention to it; it seemed pointless, somehow, when it was clearly just going to be one winter storm after another. But when he saw that they wer
Sunday, the day of New Year’s Eve, attendance at church was way down. There was always a bit of a fall-off after Christmas, but now it seemed to be more noticeable. Mark put it down to the strep throat that was going around. People were probabl
The following Wednesday night was fine and clear, and the bright moon was just beginning to wane. The Figgy Pudding Singers had a long outing, and they came back to Mark and Sandra’s house having sung themselves hoarse. John Quick had not sung
Shortly after seven, Mark stopped playing and went up to the lectern. “Good evening, my friends,” he began. “I’m so glad you’re here. I had a big service planned for tonight, with a children’s play and everything. But several members of the cas
That was Thursday, the day of the Yule Circle. On Friday, the cold was intense, but the Figgy Pudding Singers ventured out again. Otter brought his silver flute, and Mark no longer wondered at Otter’s ability to play in the cold. As always, whe
She lit a lantern and led the way up to the Circle room, and only the lantern in her hand kept her from dancing all the way.When everyone had settled in their places, sitting on cushions on the floor, she rose, picked up a snuffer from the ce
Mark told Sandra his theory, but soon they had more pressing matters to worry about. That day, it had warmed up to just below freezing; the next day, all day long, it snowed heavily. School was dismissed at noon, and by evening most of the road
The next day, Mark was working in his office, still tweaking the sermon and the service for Sunday. It was the third Sunday of Advent, coming up: Gaudete Sunday, the Sunday of Joy. Personally, that was no problem: he was feeling pretty darned j
By Friday, the warm spell seemed finally to be running out, and there was a dire weather forecast for the weekend. There was no doubt that something heavy was on the way; the only question was how much would be rain, how much would be ice, and
Monday morning early, Mark was just getting back to the house from a run, alone. Since Sandra had moved in, she’d tried running with him a couple of times, and he had tried joining Sandra’s yoga practice. But when it came to exercise, they didn
Late Monday night, after Mark’s parents had gone home to Maine, Mark sat alone, high in the branches of the old tulip tree. He was within ten or fifteen feet of what appeared to be a squirrel’s nest, and he had come to talk to the squirrels.H
In the morning, Sandra’s ankle was still tender and swollen. Mark called his parents to postpone breakfast, and he convinced Sandra to go to the urgent care first. There, they put a compression bandage and a walking brace on her ankle, told her
The Monday before Thanksgiving, Sandra woke up and looked out the window. It was a beautiful fall day, sunny and dry. There was no shortage of things to be done, at work and around the house. And yet …“Mark,” she said.Mark opened his eyes.
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