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Letters From The Herb House

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Product Code: 9781541281936
ISBN13: 9781541281936
Condition: New
$12.71
Time silently pulls people along, totaling the years without regard to their joys or regrets. Counting such things is one's own choosing but who figures accurately? Eventually, we all do. It makes you hold out your hands, and finally open your mind and heart. You acknowledge the past, take hold of the present, and vow to make yourself worthy for the future. Abraham Noble had not reached that point when he lay down for his Sunday nap. His nap slipped thirty minutes past its usual hour, and he does not stir. Five minutes ago, the rhythm of his breathing changed from normal to small gasps, and the span of his life's final seconds began counting down. His senses are no longer aware of the late summer breeze coming through the open bedroom window, or the thin, rustling sounds of the starched white curtains that reminded him of distant rain, when he lay down after dinner. Now, it only serves to mute the faint struggle as the sum of his eighty-nine years begins its journey to another place before ending at the grave. Milo Pierson was not from Grit Hill, but he was asked to preach Abraham's funeral. He carried out his duties and gave a sigh of relief when it was over. But it wasn't over. A serpent's truth revealed itself as the casket was being loaded into the hearse, momentarily confusing the country preacher with its deception. Its guile set in motion a string of events that no one expected. Like Abraham's past it remained hidden for thirty years. When that day arrived, there was no use to wonder if transgressions of the past are ever dismissed.

Author: Harmon Sloan
Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
Publication Date: Feb 14, 2017
Number of Pages: 332 pages
Language: English
Binding: Paperback
ISBN-10: 1541281934
ISBN-13: 9781541281936

Letters From The Herb House

$12.71
 
Time silently pulls people along, totaling the years without regard to their joys or regrets. Counting such things is one's own choosing but who figures accurately? Eventually, we all do. It makes you hold out your hands, and finally open your mind and heart. You acknowledge the past, take hold of the present, and vow to make yourself worthy for the future. Abraham Noble had not reached that point when he lay down for his Sunday nap. His nap slipped thirty minutes past its usual hour, and he does not stir. Five minutes ago, the rhythm of his breathing changed from normal to small gasps, and the span of his life's final seconds began counting down. His senses are no longer aware of the late summer breeze coming through the open bedroom window, or the thin, rustling sounds of the starched white curtains that reminded him of distant rain, when he lay down after dinner. Now, it only serves to mute the faint struggle as the sum of his eighty-nine years begins its journey to another place before ending at the grave. Milo Pierson was not from Grit Hill, but he was asked to preach Abraham's funeral. He carried out his duties and gave a sigh of relief when it was over. But it wasn't over. A serpent's truth revealed itself as the casket was being loaded into the hearse, momentarily confusing the country preacher with its deception. Its guile set in motion a string of events that no one expected. Like Abraham's past it remained hidden for thirty years. When that day arrived, there was no use to wonder if transgressions of the past are ever dismissed.

Author: Harmon Sloan
Publisher: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
Publication Date: Feb 14, 2017
Number of Pages: 332 pages
Language: English
Binding: Paperback
ISBN-10: 1541281934
ISBN-13: 9781541281936
 

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