My journal of big words and pretty pictures
Goodwood Duxford tales… Dandelions sprang up as if overnight, dotting the garden grounds in little fluffy, yellow polka dots. Instead of his usual equipment, Goodwood Duxford, caretaker and hereditary ghost wrangler at Gramberly Cemetery, filled the pockets of his carpenter’s apron with pruning shears, a trowel, a small spade, and a water bottle filled, not … Continue reading Family reunion
More from the Dinner Party... The gazebo had seen better days. Paint peeling from the rafters littered the benches and stairs landing with a dusting of moldy, white flakes. Old spider webs, hanging like shredded bunting, decorated corners, and railing slats. Atop the only rise in the park, the pavilion was once the venue for … Continue reading House warming gift
He packed his bags and said all his good-byes. It was time for his last journey. There were tears and clutching, wailing and beseeching, so many reasons why he needed to stay. His only reason to go he said was, "because.” At first light, he left his home, locked the front door, and didn’t turn back. One … Continue reading A wise man travels
I knew what day it was by what instrument Carl was playing. A fixture at the corner of Summit and Division Streets every day except Sunday, Carl said he gives the Lord the Sabbath. He was as much a fixture at St. Bellamy’s Mission, having been a member there for all of his 76 years. … Continue reading Will play for tips
A youth spent enduring overnight snipe hunts at Fireside Scout Wilderness Camp prepared Tansy for competitive cross-country orienteering. When the opportunity presented to join the Braverman team traversing Moody Woods for regional finals, Tansy jumped at it. A broken ankle sidelined veteran team member Monica Brunelle, forcing her to drop out three weeks before the competition. … Continue reading Moody Woods
“I had finished a portion of the last and the eleventh; there remained but a single stone to be fitted and plastered in.” ~ Edgar Allen Poe, The Cask of Amontillado Where first the screams were like music to his ears, now they threaten to drive him mad. Eógan knew he should have stayed away, … Continue reading Walled in
Thin spiral notebook 