My journal of big words and pretty pictures
I try to avoid walking down that side of the street, though sometimes I can’t escape it. Whenever I go past the abandoned lot hidden behind pealing paint and rusty nails, I get that feeling that someone is watching me. Like, If I turned around suddenly I’d see a wild-eyed face pressed against the weathered … Continue reading Watching, waiting
Previously: Paisley, rosemary, and time Several days worth of newspapers were stacked in a neat pile on a small hotel table as Boris carefully leafed through each one looking for any mention the recent deaths of a tourist couple. Since the first small blurb the day after he killed them, there had been nothing new … Continue reading Sharped dressed man
The pathway through the marsh was built to endure - straight, solid, and indestructible. Even the marsh’s ravenous denizens were repelled by it. The stone viaduct was impervious to all but the miasma of wretchedness that rose from the muck. The fecund foliage surrounding the path encroached on the bridge’s low barrier rail stretching sinewy … Continue reading Dead man walking
Winter winds swept down the mountain, whipping through bare tree limbs and worming through narrow gaps in the barn walls. It moaned as if in pain from the effort. Loft doors, weakly clinging to rusty hinges, slapped against weathered boards, splintering the already tired wood. Wild curses were lost in the maelstrom as dust devils … Continue reading Precarious calm
The last item to go onto the pile was the mop she used to clean the kitchen floor. With more vehemence than necessary, she shoved the tines of the For Sale sign in the ground beside the debris. “Still not going to tell him before you leave?“ Aileen had refused to help her sister, Maureen, … Continue reading Gone by sunset
The invitation was penned in elegant calligraphy on fine, handmade cotton rag paper, and sealed with a dark crimson, wax stamp embossed with an intricate Cappas family crest. It was hand-delivered on a sunny, Monday morning, by the family retainer. “Who was that?” Belinda Danner called out to her daughter. Gillian turned the envelope over … Continue reading Meeting the neighbors
Thin spiral notebook 