“Who knows where Jacob is?” he looked down disapprovingly at the small crowd of school children.
No one spoke a word.
It was not that they didn’t know, it was that they knew all too well.
“Well? Anyone? Speak up, speak up!” he reiterated in his cowboy bass.
Not one person spoke.
But one little girl shyly pointed out the window.
And every…[Read more]
Scattered around her in sad little heaps were those tiny, innocent-looking devils. They mocked me as they dripped over the side of the table, an inconsistent drum beat. She looked at me through eyes like windows, but no one was home. The small little pills, scattered around the floor, almost formed a word, but no one could read it.
Because the seasons change, so do our memories. Our thoughts, lives and entities change more than we’d like to admit, so each season represents the cleansing of our lives and the rebirth of something new. Each season is unique in its own way; summer is reminiscent of puppy blues and white dresses, while winter, though also fond is white, does so…[Read more]