Some Springs are Dammed

Robert Quick

Where the -@!# did my muse go?

Writer, dreamer, knight, shackled by entertainment . . . and people.

Kelly had been fourteen when she decided her father wasn't coming back. He had disappeared two years prior while on a walk, something he'd do quietly on his own every couple of days. Busy doing homework at the kitchen table she hadn't noticed it then but looking back she thought that maybe he had closed the front door with a certain amount of finality.

At first she'd been frightened for him, scared that he was hurt or dead. She and her mom had put up missing signs and made the report to the police but nothing came of either. Then she was too busy to even be angry. Furious tears and pangs of guilt would come later. Her mom couldn't afford to keep the house so they had had to move into a dingy apartment that stank of cigarettes. She'd had to learn to take the bus from her new apartment to school and her free time was spent baby-sitting James, her two year-old brother.

Yet she maintained hope for two years, hope that he'd return and make everything go back to the way it was but over time even hope could pass.


No prequels yet. Why not write one?

« Write a prequel


No sequels yet. Why not write one?

Write a sequel »

Comments (0 so far!)