I leaned against one of the many freestanding pillars around the edges of the ballroom, pretending to sip the violet liquid in my cup. Pairs of dancers whirled across the dance floor, feet moving perfectly in rhythm with the string ensemble’s arrangement of a popular tune.
Behind me, trios and quartets mingled at tables
“Really, Peter? You’d die for a song?”
My younger brother’s words echo in my ears as I reach for another sheet of music—the prelude to today’s final hymn. The knot in my stomach has nothing to do with the fact that I skipped
My lasso sped toward the last bull in the devil’s herd. Its cursed hooves struck sparks as it thundered across the sky.
While my ghost rope started to drop over the brute’s head, I let myself hope that this time I’d catch him, though I’d always failed before. Would’ve held my breath, if I had any.
My name is Gaspard Jerome Masson, and I have one regret.
The last word smudged beneath the old man’s trembling hand. He drew a breath, then continued writing.
Her name was Marie.
###
June 6, 1944
Rennes, France
“Gaspard! They’re coming!”
Gaspard shot up from his seat. Marie burst through the door of his small apartment
Under my hand, salt breaks away from the gate in thick, crystalized flakes. Reus giggles. He reaches out his chubby baby fingers, but I yank him back, pressing his face to my cloak when his laugh turns to a startled wail.
“Shh…” I hold him closer, my heart pounding as I look over my shoulder.
Mark taps me on the shoulder. “Dynamite warm?”
Plants rustle as I reach down amid the overgrowth and into my sock, fingering the explosive stick and the wooden blasting cap filled with gunpowder. It’s warm against my skin, safely cocooned from the frosty night air. I nod, even though he can’t see it.
“I can’t tell you how happy I am to have somebody finally take the caretaker position,” Mayor Geoff Collins said. “Can’t have the cemetery becoming an eyesore.”
“I’ve always been good at landscaping,” Brady replied. Good enough, anyway. “And the apartment
Robbing Karl Schmidt should have been easy. He was staggering drunkenly as I stalked him through the moonlit streets. Instead, he snorted when I demanded his money, pulling out two empty pockets. “Somebody beat you to it, you rogue.” He squinted his blue eyes.
Read it now
I couldn’t remember the last time I felt so cold. The temperature outside was part of it, of course. So was our agreement to burn only one piece of coal at a time. Coal wasn’t cheap, and it was only December 24th, with many
Read it now
Marley was dead. Each nail in his coffin bore witness to that.
It was a dreary affair, his funeral. There were no mourners—practically no living souls save the minister, two grave diggers, and Scrooge. Yes, Scrooge. Covetous old sinner! Preoccupied solely with why
Belle’s steps slowed as she neared the grand house. Had her heart not already been racing from hurrying to make it in time, it surely would be now. Her stomach tightened. Too many years had passed. What if he had forgotten her?
She pulled her shawl closer, shielding herself from the frigid snowfall,
They found him, arms curved inward as if protecting something, but the fire that left him a charred husk had destroyed what he’d cradled: A Ricky Henderson rookie card, the most precious of all his collection.
Together forever.
I close my eyes, and sigh. Then, I delete the file.
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