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The Mermaid's Tears Part 2

  By Lauren Derrick Part 2 of 3 Three months later. Stone walls enclosed Nauni. The large fort was sturdy and gray, and she felt like a hermit crab hiding within its walls. She could go where she wished inside, but this hardly felt like freedom. A few servants bobbed their heads respectfully at her as they hustled tea over to the island's lord. She smiled courteously and nodded back, but then she frowned. Of course, she couldn't expect them to keep reverencing her like they had at first. She was just beginning to feel as though she could understand their language, but she knew that they still spoke about the day she had come to their shore. They whispered about how she had been gently carried to the shore in a turtle's shell, adorned with more pearls and precious shells than anyone had ever seen. The son of the Island Lord had been there and seen it himself. A beautiful maiden, dressed in shells and pearls and in a deep sleep carried to the shore—the same woman who had resc

The Mermaid's Tears Part 1

By Lauren Derrick Part 1 of 3 Chief Ariah stood tall and pointed his finger right at Nauni. She balled her hands into fists and tried to stand firm. The shells on the four judges' headdresses clinked against one another in the breeze. A few of the verdant feathers adorning Chief Ariah's neck fanned out as well. His outstretched arm trembled slightly. Nauni braced herself against the steadily growing flow of panic. “The beauty of the island is truth. The love of the island is the love of its people. This girl is to be cast out.” The firmness of the words eroded as if the chief was losing his voice. “The beauty and love of the island are not in her heart. Because of her, a member of our village is dead. She cannot stay.” Nauni gasped for air. Her brown eyes widened, and she looked around frantically for Haui'no. He stood, jet black hair tied back, arms crossed over a well-toned chest, eyes hard. Nauni's hand flew to her mouth to stop a guttural wailing from within that sh

The Life of a Cottage

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By Elizabeth Smith 1787 N Main Street, Farmington, Utah 1880s : Alley Rose Alley digs in his new twenty-acre property. One day there will be a fine farm in the field and a shed for his carpentry work. The oak tree near the road will be a place where weary travelers and their horses will stop in the shade for a drink before riding north to Ogden or south to Salt Lake City. There will be an exquisite adobe cottage for his wife, Alvira, and their twelve children, where they will enjoy reading literature and making music when they are not attending to the many duties of frontier life. But Alley must make bricks before any of that will happen. He digs the dry Utah dirt, gathers straw, and brings water. His oldest sons stamp the mixture with their bare feet, and Alley shovels the mud into molds . He leaves the rectangles to dry in the hot sun. 1910s : Elaine Manning Elaine stares at the flames. Her parents and siblings are nearby and in panic, but Elaine is only four. What is there for a yo