You wouldn’t forget the date of your dad’s death any more than you’d forget your own.
January 3, 1962. The worst day of my life. And only two months later, we’re going to Disneyland.
“Swell way to mourn,” I muttered.
Mom flinched like I’d punched her in the gut, but it was my kid sister Susie…
Every spring, the past called Cheroth back to a land that did not want her, compelling her against reason or need. She swept low over the tree line and into full view of the village, beating her wings in the slow rhythm of one trying to suppress hope. A woman caught her shadow and looked up.
Read it now
There are echoes in the valley, and they speak my name.
Emereth. Emereth.
Desperate and muffled like a man with his face in a pillow, using his last breath—for me. It is carried on a low, whistling wind that aches through tall cliffs on either side of this place. It rustles through wildflowers, collecting pollen and doubts.
After my daughter and her husband’s car accident, it was just Carter and me. Then, three years later to the day that I had buried his parents, I laid six-year-old Carter beside them.
Leukemia.
Most of the people at the funeral were my grandson’s friends. A few had tears running down their cheeks as they hugged their parents…
Icy wind combed through my hair, cutting my exposed skin like a razor. The beast roared beneath my thighs, the machine’s force reverberating my rib cage as it churned out a wave of snow in my wake. Inside my helmet, my heart pumped like a speaker. Cold air drove down my throat to bite
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“Hemorrhoids.”
“I’m sorry, what?” I buried my face in the menu. It wouldn’t be the first time my darling Joe had embarrassed me in an elegant restaurant like Tony’s. I’d just hoped our forty-ninth anniversary might be an exception.
“Hemorrhoids!” Joe announced. A few patrons side-eyed each other.
I lifted my face slightly and…
“An exciting opportunity lies ahead of you.”
Across the table, Hank folded the slip and threw it into the remains of his shrimp chow mien. “Well, if that refers to Betty Jo zonked out on the sofa again with an empty bottle of vodka”—he rolled his eyes— “I’m gonna pass. “
I haven’t slept in three days.
I don’t dare. My chin quivers. “God help me not to slip.”
The accursed journal lies on the floor where I flung it last night. It’s skillfully bound, with crackled leather and twisted knotwork burned into the cover. A cover that should remain forever closed.
The back of the cab was warm and smelled vaguely of cigarettes. Morgan held Shauna’s hand, tears falling quietly in the darkness on the drive home.
Only emptiness greeted him when he opened the apartment door. He shuffled inside, dimly aware of his wife slipping off her shoes and wandering to the bathroom.
I watch the sun rise through the mist, creating an early morning rainbow. The colors glow, and in my awe, I forget the mug I hold. The clatter shatters my reverie, and I blink at the shards on the concrete. I will sweep that up later. For now, I am lost in
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Peter had thought dying would be an awfully big adventure.
But not like this. Not when he wasn’t the one staring it in the eye.
He couldn’t let Jane face death without him, because he couldn’t face life without her.
He watched her chest rise and fall, her breathing labored and ragged.
With shaking fingers, Vik attached the last wire to the prosthetic arm’s microprocessor. “The patient is now fully operational.”
His voice sounded deceptively calm, belying his frantically pounding heart.
Behind him, Igor clapped. “It’s ready?”
“He,” Vik corrected, leveling a glare at the technician. “Bring me the defibrillator.”
Above, raindrops pounded against
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