These are a few of our favorites — faces that once belonged to someone, somewhere, whose stories were lost to time. We’ve reimagined them with love, giving their memories a second life here among our Kinfolk.
Julian Mercer painted quietly, unnoticed in a moss-lit attic studio at Middleton College. He first saw Eleanor Hart crossing the quad, reading while walking—graceful, absorbed, unforgettable. Without a word, he began sketching her. She became his muse, appearing in charcoal, oil, and dreams. He painted her endlessly—not from fantasy, but reverence. Her eyes, especially, eluded him until one night they finally looked back. He called it The Soul in Her Eyes. It was chosen for exhibitions, praised by critics. But Julian never told her. She passed him once, smiled politely. He could barely breathe.
A haunting love story that spans lifetimes, The Soul in Her Eyes follows a quiet painter, the woman who became his muse, and the painting that binds their souls across decades—ultimately finding its home inside The Kinfolk Museum. A beautifully written digital e-book that lingers like memory itself.
No one in town dared invite the Pendergasts twice—too many arguments over politics, too many pets at the table. They wore their oddities proudly: silk for chores, spectacles at dusk, and family portraits staged like royalty. Outlandish? Certainly. But behind the whispers and laughter, they wouldn’t have traded their peculiar kingdom for anyone else’s crown.
Cousin Mabel’s face told the story before anyone spoke—a raw mix of shock and guilt. She had caused trouble before, but never devastation like this. As the wreck loomed behind her, she seemed frozen, knowing the family might never forgive her, and fearing this time there’d be no escaping the blame.
Widow Clara raised her children with quiet strength and a gentle heart. Though life had carved hardship into her days, she never let it shadow their sweetness. Her daughter’s laughter and her son’s steadfast gaze were her anchors—proof that kindness and resilience could still blossom, even on the worn steps of loss.
Cousin Henry and his neighbor May were inseparable from the start. What began as childhood games grew into a devotion the whole town quietly admired. Their love stretched across decades, tender and steadfast, remembered by the family as one of its truest stories—proof that some bonds are meant to last a lifetime.
In the 1950s, the McAllister brothers played cowboy from dawn till supper, pearl snaps gleaming and toy pistols at their hips. Their dachshund, Duke, was the ever-loyal sidekick—short on legs but long on grit. Together, they patrolled the backyard frontier, heroes in hats too big, guarding a world only children could believe in.
Aunt Hattie’s constant companion was Bramble, a mutt of mysterious lineage and marvelous personality. With a woolly coat and eyes that seemed to wink at the world, he was part guardian, part jester. He understood her silences, matched her laughter, and made every ordinary day feel just a little more extraordinary.
Orphaned young, Cousin Tommy never went anywhere without Scout trotting at his heels. The scrappy little dog knew every secret, every sorrow, every joy of the boy who called him friend. Their bond was simple, unshakable—loyalty stitched tighter than blood. Together, they carried each other through fields, seasons, and silence, proving love doesn’t need words to endure.