Gunpowder And LeadIt had been a long, long week. And Clara was glad it was over. The case she and her team had been working on was a doozy. But it was solved, the murderer was headed straight for hell via the death penalty, and Clara could finally relax, at least for the time being.Clara walked up to her room. Her legs ached and her eyes burned as she made her way up the stairs. She peered into her bedroom. Federico was not there. Maybe he'd gotten off his lazy ass and was looking for a job. Good for him. It was about damn time.Just as Clara was about to put her gun in the gun safe, she heard the sobbing of a little girl. Her little girl? Had one of her bambinas gotten hurt? Clara put her gun in the safe, locked it, and walked across the hall to the bedroom Heather and Mae shared. She pressed her ear to the door."He hurt me, he hurt me," she heard her daughter Mae sob. Oh, crap. Mae and Stephen, Mae's feisty younger brother, had gotten into it. Again."What happened?" Charmaine, Clara's stepdaughter,
InvisibleThe music was loud, the bassline pounding. People laughed. They danced. Punch spilled from red cups as people socialized. It was a party to remember.He wanted to forget it.He was there, but he wasn't part of the scene. He sat in a corner, nursing a warm Dr Pepper, watching. A gaggle of pretty girls walked by, laughing, creating memories and inside jokes. None of them gave him a passing glance. He felt like a ghost on Ghost Whisperer, his sister's favorite show, or that guy from The Invisible Man. He was there. He could see everything. But nobody could see him. Or maybe, they just didn't want to.
These Old WallsIf these old walls could talk... what stories would they tell? What secrets would they divulge? Would they gossip? Would they give names, dates, a definitive history? Or would they remain silent? If these old walls could talk... what would they say?