Ghost of the past Stories

Chapter Six: The Girl that was not Quite Tessa The snow had begun to fall in earnest long before Tessa reached the first streetside motel she could find, somewhere down Brooklyn Bridge Boulevard. Though not a large dog, the weight of Pickles on one shoulder and the pack on the other, combined with the whipping of the freezing wind had her trudging along tiredly. The new jacket was dusted with a light covering of snow and...

Chapter One: The Beauty of Broken Things Kelso paused for the shot, because it was perfect. It was not the bridge over the river, cloaked in a rolling autumn fog, and it was not the distant, hazy forms of the buildings, gray against a grayer morning sky. It was not the dark waters of the river itself, lapping along endlessly in their dance, or even the fog-cloaked hulk of the East River Ferry, in the distance that made th...