I remember the night my father left. I was six. My mother told me the news with tears and sobs. My aunt, her sister, was there for hugs and support. We were in the kitchen at a yellow table; we sat on plastic covered seats. The window was open; I could smell chicken cooking next
There was little left of our party when the fire went out and shadows became only darkness. When the whispers got loud and the laughter faded. The music we played became a drone, an echo bouncing through the oak, the maple and pine; till all was silence. Just quiet. And quiet leads to madness. And
There was a man once, a long time ago, maybe it was yesterday, he cried at night, alone, in a room on a bottom floor as the snow fell outside is window. As the snow grew deeper the moonlight reflected off the surface and made the night shine and glow. In the glass window the
I remember walking down a country road in springtime. It was after sunrise and I had wandered away while the others slept. A wooden fence lined each side of the road; in the fields beyond I knew there would one day be corn but there was only the sewn earth ready to grow. The fence
The man in blue comes by everyday. He walks in the front yard, steps through the flowerbed. He leaves me things by the front door, but I just throw them away without looking. He thinks he can scare me, intimidate me. Well, he can’t fool me. I know better. So tomorrow I will set a
