A Lonely Wind

January 8, 2011 | Leave a Comment

It was a lonely wind. Leaves and other Fall debris fled before it, scratching and clicking at the cracked pavement. Small animals sheltered themselves in the folds of crumbling buildings, hunched down, squinting, trying for warmth. A single person, wrapped in layers of old clothing, walked the sidewalk as the dusk approached. Collars upright, hands […]

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The Cellar

January 8, 2011 | Leave a Comment

It was Maine before the land was hunted mercilessly by the absurdly wealthy for oceanfront mansions. Right above the beach. An old cellar, facing the frothy water. Bits and pieces of someone’s lives lay strewn here and there, wedged between the remaining fieldstone foundation boulders–perhaps there since the fire took the house in the night. […]

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