Welcome to the Wistful World

“Evermore”

Eleanor Dahl pedals through the Texas dawn on her custom penny farthing, eyes closed, finally free from the accordion that has defined her twenty-two years. She’d slipped away from Smilin’ Johnnie and his Prairie Pals for a few weeks in the fall of 1962, craving silence and empty roads before rejoining the band for their planned Arctic Circle tour the following year, but the raven had other plans—appearing on her handlebars that first morning, cawing out melodies she’d never heard before, strange and beautiful tunes that seemed to rise from the land itself. The armadillo shuffles through the roadside brush as Eleanor hums along with the bird’s compositions, her mind already arranging harmonies, imagining how these wild Texas songs might sound through her bellows and reeds. She’d meant this trip as an escape, a chance to remember who she was before the music claimed her, but as the golden light spills across the hills and the raven taps out another rhythm, she understands the truth: music isn’t something you leave behind, it’s something that finds you again and again, calling you back to what you were always meant to do, evermore.

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“She Rode Where Sense Would Not Follow”

In the dimming years of the 1890s, Clara Whitcombe rode the prairie as if escaping a life already lost to her. The road bent unnaturally beneath her wheels, and the wind whispered names she no longer answered to. She traveled with rescued creatures, fragile witnesses to her belief that broken things deserved second chances. Her companions had found her just as she had found them—cast aside and searching for somewhere to belong. Each mile carried them toward a rumored sanctuary where unwanted souls might finally rest. She never turned back, unsure whether she was moving toward freedom or simply farther into the dream she could not wake from.

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