Jackson plus Amber etched deep into that top beam! Flathead Bridge held memories. A quarter mile before sailing into its curve Amber assuredly pressed her foot into the gas. Surreal…Savior by Lights played…Jackson’s apparition stood mid-bridge…she swerved…quietly resigned! Hissing steam…Amber dead silent. Dreams of being together forever realized…at last!
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The terrorizing thoughts would hit when I was in bed for the night. I don’t even know how old I was,probably around 10, but I’m not sure. I don’t know how long it lasted either, but I did get over it. While I didn’t dread going to bed, I did dread the thoughts coming....
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This my submission for the Extreme Writing Now Group,  Memoir Writing,  prompt of … When I commented on Rachel’s memoir submission, , I said I thought I was eight when that particular incident occurred. I was wrong. The memory of my first real fear has come wafting back through the filter of the dirty...
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Finding the scene of the crime took hours. Bum knees…scattered holes dug by crazy ass dogs made her anxious about venturing too far. Deep down notions of deserving flittered around. He was a real cock…always trying to test, show male bravado! Who really cared if he was dead? Then…there was a cock-a-doodle-doo! . Image...
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