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Editorial Reviews. About the Author. W. Mahlon Purdin is publisher, writer, poet, photographer, The Rise of Farson Uiost: The ScreenMasters, Volume One - Kindle edition by W. Mahlon Purdin. Download it once and read it on your Kindle​.
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Karina Chamberlain - KarinaC Karina Chamberlain - karinac Karina Chamberlain - karinacharlie Karina Chamberlain - Karinachamberss. Karina Chamberlain Ribis - rocrealtorkarinaribis. Karina - karinachamberlain. Karin Chamberlain - karinakac1. Katrina Chamberlain - kitkatbiatch.

Katrina Chamberlain - katrina. Katrina Chamberlain - xkatrinaxheartsxurfacex. Karan Chamberlain - kaydoggyo. Kara Chamberlain - ryanslapsabitch. Kari Chamberlain - kachick Kari Chamberlain - karichamberlain.


  • Fortunes Wheel.
  • Kundrecensioner.
  • OLD BUT NEW: Short Poem.
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  • How to Move a Château.
  • Escaping Daddy;

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  • Thank Heaven For Little Girls!
  • Buying Options;
  • Silent Poetry.
  • by Purdin, Mr. W. Mahlon.
  • Is it safe to eat uncooked toast?!
  • A Distant Crossing;
  • The Rise of Farson Uiost - The Works of W. Mahlon Purdin;

Oct 21, Originally shared by Karina soccergirl. Karina Chamberlain Ribis- Realtor - karinarene. Karin Chamberlain - karinannicka. Karina Chamberlain - chamberlain Corinna Chamberlain. This biography of a living person needs additional citations for …. As he gently cut the cord with his pocketknife and tied it off, David held his son tightly. Where the tears fell, there were little circles of clarity. For the only time in his life, the boy was together with his family. In his own way, David tried desperately to understand the moment.

Take my son. They could see that the father had done what he could. The boy was cradled in a wooden box with a primitive carving scratched into its slated side:. Beside the cradle, on that dark and cold winter night, David Uiost had died with his exhausted broken heart, his prayers, his thoughts on life, his limited understanding, and his anguish.

He died with his feelings and a final firsthand knowledge of sad sorrow and unrelenting suffering. What he did not understand had overcome him. His weakness and his faith had set a course for his son from which there was now no turning back. There were mysteries that confronted the neighbors — in addition to the death of the mother and father. When they opened the door of the small house, there was a waning fire, embers still glowing in the hearth. These mysteries of what exactly happened were left for some other day.

Collecting and identifying signed letters and holographic documents

Farson, who ultimately was to teach humanity so much, was granted almost nothing for himself. The sad circumstances of his birth foreshadowed what was to follow. Despite all the odds against him: a dead mother, a misguided and dying father, desperate isolation in an empty, cold wilderness cabin for days, only one clear, incontrovertible fact could be truly ascertained: Farson had survived. For the next eighteen years of his life, Farson Uiost traveled through time as any other boy would have.

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He was unusual perhaps in the fact that he was immediately adopted after the death of his biological parents. His new parents were William and Mary Chamberlain. Both were highly skilled mathematicians working at Indiana University. They were obviously thrilled to have the boy. As it turned out, his adoption was a great stroke of luck for Farson. They were patient and caring, if somewhat distant. Their renowned skill in mathematics gave them an immunity from American homogeneity, allowing them to stand apart, and it provided them with a lifestyle in which all their material needs were easily met, leaving the Chamberlains free to move in the higher orbit of ideas.

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The Chamberlains, before adopting Farson, had hired Hattie. It was Hattie who truly cared for him as a small boy.


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  5. The friendship that developed between Hattie and Farson became far more important to both of them than their circumstances might have predicted. Farson knew that Hattie was on the march.

    The Rise of Farson Uiost: The ScreenMasters, Volume One by W. Mahlon Purdin

    You get down here, boy! Farson knew it was inevitable. Hattie knew the old house as well as he did. She knew all the little hideaway places, and she knew about the secret staircase. Even worse, she knew him. Hattie knew exactly where he was; it was just a matter of time until she got him.

    In the meantime, Farson was using his time well. The old house had several gables, and a very special one faced the eastern night sky perfectly for viewing his favorite constellation. Since just before Christmas a year ago he had stared at the constellation Canis Major through the surprisingly capable telescope William and Mary had given him. In his mind, Farson stood on the planet that circled the Dog Star, Sirius. The cloudless violet sky filled his vision. There was a soft breeze, somewhat chilled, mussing his scruffy brown hair.

    He was on a verdant hill overlooking the rust-colored, grain-waved flatlands that stretched to the far horizon. He felt as if he towered over the universe, invincible. Through the black expanse of endless space he had traveled effortlessly to Serenity, this planet he had created. Through the illimitable light-years of space, this child of Earth sitting in his attic had stretched his consciousness to establish residence and reality on a far speck of the heavens.

    He resolutely stood here and there ready to ward off all dangers and to cause the birth of an entire civilization. Then he began to really concentrate. Suddenly, a city appeared on the plains just before the slope of the hills. Roads, vehicles, and lights sprang up. Life began to spread outwardly from the newly forming urban mosaic.

    It was a virtuoso performance. The planet, Serenity, had no moon, but, slowly, a shadowed presence spread across its surface …. He was suddenly airborne and spiraling up to face his captor. Farson loved the twisting motion when Hattie effortlessly threw him up and into her arms. He laughed with abandon as she tickled him and hugged him to her fantastically large and super soft, pillowy bosoms.

    He looked back over her shoulder to see the little telescope pressed against the glass of the attic window. He noticed that it had been aimed through the summer screen. He wondered why the grids of the window screen had not appeared in his telescopic vision. But before that thought could be given its due consideration, Hattie, carrying her squirming, giggling burden, burst into the warm lights of the kitchen.

    Soon, there was the delicious smell of dinner waiting to help Farson come fully back to reality. John Andrew McKinley Sortt was holding a picture of a young woman. An intelligent, beautiful young woman , he added in his thoughts. So, this is his sister. He reached into his front drawer and took out another picture: this one of the now-famous Farson Uiost, himself. These two people, he knew from the dossiers and the briefings, were from different parents.