“She stopped by an empty field, the soil abandoned, gone to mustard weed and grass. Lush bundles of crimson clover lined the fence. At the far end was a cluster of trees. As always, her eyes sought movement at the… — Rene Denfeld Copy Share Image
“The trees seemed to have eyes that were watching us and reaching out for me. They began to take on the shape of the dead.” — Amber Newberry Copy Share Image
