With his standard breakfast of fresh fruits consumed, Mel carried his oversized coffee cup into the spare bedroom where he had set up his computer station. After checking his emails and responding where required, he summoned the manuscript of his newest work-in-progress, still untitled.
The last time he tried to compose something on it, a week ago back in Florida, he had contracted a nasty case of writer’s block. After staring at the page for a couple of minutes, he gave up in disgust. All he could think about right then was the sobbing Chelyan.
Mel conducted a computer search for “Chelyan,” hoping he remembered the correct spelling, and was shocked by the results that popped up on the screen. After numerous references to the village of Chelyan, West Virginia, near Charleston, the next m
