A shiver ran up my spine, Mama’s voice in my head, don’t count the crows, baby. You know why they’re called a murder. Don’t tempt fate. Let them tell it to the devil.
Millie is my best friend and I can’t think of anyone else I would rather spend my time with. Mother thinks it’s unnatural the amount of time we spend together but I am just not interested in Jeremiah or any other boy for that matter.
Yep just solved all the problems of the world while waiting on dinner. Now if I can just get everyone else to listen to me and do what I say it would be great.
It had to make a statement. His murder had to tell the world what kind of a man he was. He needed to suffer just like he caused women to suffer. To be humiliated, abandoned, and desperate for help.
This was the first time I realized that boys could do things that girls were not allowed to do and it was so not fair. My mom agreed and so her and my maternal Grandfather went out and bought me a tricycle
She held the collage in her hand focusing her gaze on 23. What a pretty face 23 had. Checking her notes she saw that 23 had her photo taken in Middlesex in 1922. She called Jacques…
I may be a little off theme today but, a photo and a late night phone call inspired today’s post.
Mr. Anders had seen a family tossed out by hired men just hours after the father had been killed in a mine explosion. A woman heavy with child and four little children with nowhere to go tossed out like garbage. He could still hear her crying and screaming in Italian not understanding what was happening.
Could this child be a relative, maybe a distant cousin with those blonde eyelashes like mine and that nose that looks like my son’s? I don’t recollect any family in the Scott’s Run area but sometimes families traveled when a mine closed.