Just a small-town girl livin' in a lonely world. Also a writer.
the girl on the bench
A young girl sits on a bench, surrounded by kids her age running around together on the playground. There are stains on their khaki shorts from the chopped-up tire mulch, their hands are blackened from it, and the smell of rubber in the August heat fills the air. The girl wasn’t placed on the bench for a form of punishment, she had just seen it when she walked outside and felt it a nice place to sit. She feels as if it were where she belongs. She recognizes a few faces from her class, can recall a few names, but she doesn’t know anyone - not really. She sits, observant and content. Her new pink tennis shoes swing back and forth above the ground. Her teacher is worried for her, though, and says she should find someone to play with.
eye of the beholder
Detective Rhea Townsend sat down at her desk with a heavy sigh. She hated the cases with dead kids – especially when the primary suspects were kids too. Rhea hated putting kids behind bars, but she knew that sometimes it was unavoidable. Murder can’t go unpunished, she thought to herself. She had just gotten back from the crime scene, and her stomach wouldn’t be the same for days. There was such hatred and anger in that scene – so much emotion, passion, and desperation. It was all so... teenage. Rhea’s concentration was broken by the deep tones of her partner, Darren Apollo.
The Boy in the Woods
There was nothing strange about that night that told me something was off, nothing in the air or in my surroundings to make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. All my life, I’ve assumed anything strange I’ve seen or heard was just me being paranoid, the result of watching too much crime TV, or my dreams spilling into reality. I’ve always been skeptical, not just of ghosts and demon interaction, but of pretty much everything. It takes a lot of evidence and proof to make me believe someone.
Host of Shadow
The woods were dark that night - so dark I later wondered if they had turned their backs on the horrors that lie within. I never should have run. It would have been better for me to be arrested for petty theft, but I was naive, stupid, and drunk with pride.