Yesterday I was outside before the worst of the wind picked up. No, I wasn’t hunting Goblins, or doing Vampire shit, or anything like that.
Poetry, Ghosts, and Vampires
POETRY, GHOSTS, AND VAMPIRES He told me that he loved The warm breeze on his face The smell of pine trees And water on granite
Short Story Sunday: Not Knowing (A Ghost Story)
After more than thirty years Nigel Pierce still wondered who had murdered him on that cold December morning in 1986. Most of the memories of
Mass Amnesia A few days ago, Great Great Great Great Grandmama Lola, and Uncle Rico came to visit. Rico lives near Santa Barbara. Lola lives
Dig Me Up
I was thinking about my kids this morning. I’m so proud of them. Garrett called me this morning to tell me he’d been night surfing.
This is where the squirrels sit on the rails and look inside of the house at me. This is where Nigel stands against the rail
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