“Do you think we’re dead?” I gave Eleanor a perplexed look. “I can see your breath. And we’re talking right now, so…” “No, no,” she muttered, shivering in the keening wind, “not here. No sense in asking that here.. I mean out there.” I stared out past the dark sea, […]
This Cruel Place, Beyond the Blizzard Read More »
The snow was coming down harder now, the flurries growing larger and gaining in intensity with the coming darkness. Not at all a situation any normal woman would care to find herself in. Yet there I stood, alone, hungry, waiting. Minutes passed until at last I saw the headlights of
They walked the path because they had always walked the path. This year there were nine children, swallowed in coats of gray, slogging through drifts of soft, powdered snow as the bald trees stood sentinel. They had come a long way, almost halfway up the mountain, yet still the path
Jake Thomasson pulled the sleeve of his sweatshirt down, covering his hand, and wiped away the condensation from the window. It was the third time he had done this in the past ten minutes, but he didn’t want to miss seeing if any cars drove by outside. He was sitting
Living in lower Alabama, we rarely receive snow. I spent most of my life wishing for a white Christmas, a white Christmas that never came. I have only seen snow twice in my thirty-three years here. I always wanted to share that with my two boys. I just knew that
