My journal of big words and pretty pictures
A troupe of small, vintage, artist models, manipulated into a macabre ballet, meticulous in detail, danced across a makeshift stage on top of a yard sale occasional table. Arms bowed, legs extended, bodies were frozen in eerie arabesques. Effigies twisted into poses of grace and elegance, black magic victims, some oceans apart, in the throes … Continue reading Let us dance
She snuck a peek out the window at the chairs being set up for the ceremony, and wondered why there were so many. If it were up to her, the only people there would be her, Daniel, Rev. McDowell and a witness. The gardener who was trimming the camellias when they arrived would do nicely, … Continue reading Phase two
“Who called it in?” Det. Jacobs pulled on a pair of nitrile gloves before accepting a scarf sealed in a plastic bag from one of the many police officers at the crime scene. “Those kids over there,” Sgt. Cross pointed toward two teenage boys sitting on a bench 10 yards away talking to an investigator. … Continue reading Number Seven
It was a little past noon, and I was meandering down a country road - a detour off the interstate because of a multiple-car wreck. I drove past Mom and Pop stores, a barbecue restaurant run out of an old camping trailer, and stopped at the occasional traffic light. Had I been more perceptive, I could … Continue reading Rocky road
It was Thursday night, and the men were in the den drinking Irish beer from frosted mugs, and once again they were held hostage by the vociferous Wendell Chapel. This evening he held sway over a conversation about the latest generation of smartphones, yet another topic he was a self-proclaimed expert in. The women were in the living room … Continue reading Like a stone
The snow this close to the edge should be hip deep, instead, the temperatures were almost Spring-like. The expedition team wore only light trekking gear. If Col. Jerrod had not made the command order, team seismologist Pater Robie would be in flip-flops and not his required arctic boots. “I can hear rushing water.” Daisy Kendall, … Continue reading Beyond the wall
Thin spiral notebook 