By:
On:
In: Fiction
With: 0 Comments

Ivy’s stomach felt queasy as Paula returned with the bottle. Ivy stared, unblinking, as Mrs. Maxwell poured boiling water over the bottle, and the air filled with steam wafting from the glass. The water spilled into the grass filling Ivy’s nose with the pungent smell of the greenery. Paula’s mother set the pot on the cement . . .Continue Reading

By:
On:
In: Fiction, Religion
With: 0 Comments

I had to pry the details from her that night, like gently loosening rusted hinges on an ancient door. She kept dodging my questions as if something compelled her to keep the whole ordeal buried deep. But after a few hours she came out with most everything. Or at least with everything I will ever know . . . Continue Reading