Finally after a few minutes, with the pile of ashes at his feet growing to a sizeable hill, his fingers struck the hard, solid wood. He widened the hole so they could see more easily, and he removed one more large chunk. They both gawked at the sight.
Letters to Old Friends
I tend to hold onto memories like sentimental letters from long-lost friends. In a way, that's exactly what they are, but some letters are meant to collect dust for a very long time before they're read so as not to be misconstrued, and some are meant to be burned. I can remember when I was... Continue Reading →
December Rose 