rustle

Abuse isn't easy for me to write about, either. One reason why the description is so brief.

It seems he caught a break, but does he know it yet? Will he recognize and honor others' efforts on his behalf, or consider it all as his due?

Casey and James are both complex young men. James grew from this, too, but did he grow enough? What didn't he say at the end?

Guilt that comes from fear is crippling. James' courage to take that first step is the only reason there is any hope for their friendship.

Today's unscheduled posting was brought to you by a surplus of chapters queued up.

Casey's getting a sense of belonging somewhere. I don't know that he's ever known that before. And he's got a friend who will take that step toward him when he can't step forward, himself. Sometimes, the hardest word to say is "hi." Thanks for following, Val.

A Better Place Jim guided Casey to the side of the house. A flagstone path led to a broad wooden door with heavy iron hardware. Over the door, colored light shone through a glass mosaic of an old pickup on a tree-lined road. Tall, narrow windows glowed softly from the second floor. As they reached the door, a mourning dove called. While Jim opened the door, Casey paused to look around, and took a deep breath. The air smelled of earth and growing things. He let out the breath, and turned. Jim wa

I'm glad you're writing about this, and getting it into the open, where you can deal with it. What we hold inside festers. When someone passes, it's natural for people to relate what they knew of him or her, good or bad, whatever the context. It's how they deal with the grieving they're going through. Some believe that expressing condolences make those closest feel better, but it may only be themselves who feel better. They're not aware of your feelings, but of their own. Grief is like depression. You can't get over it, you can't get around it, you can't do anything but go through it to the other side. At some point, I'd encourage you to write about him, to collect the memories, the stories. All of them. Print them out, and bind them together in a special book. Put it with your photos. One day, you or your kids may want to read it, and it may make sense then. I'll be thinking of you and your family, wishing you peace, and clear memories. As long as we remember somebody, they're not really gone.

Ads push jewelry and other luxury items for women for the holiday, but I don't see many ads for stuff to buy your man. Transactional. That's an interesting choice of words.

Thanks, Mark. If you're finding yourself or someone you know in the story, that's a good sign that the characters are believable. All your questions will NOT be answered, I promise. Kinda like life. Now that I have you attention...

Hi Newbies! Welcome to GA. Glad you could join us. If you write, we'd love to see your work posted. If you read, we'd love your feedback on our work. If you edit, Louis can put you to work. I hope you enjoy it here.

Thanks, dude. Working with you over the years has taught me a lot about writing and editing, both.

Thanks for the feedback. It's great that the readers identify with the characters so strongly.

I'm not sure Casey could've handled it if I'd thrown an evil authority figure at him, too. Thanks for following, and for your comments.

He won't know until he sees it for himself. Is it likely to be any worse than his family?

If it's possible for an author to fall in love with his characters, I have. Casey is young and beset, but James is complicated. I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter. Thanks for sticking with me, Lisa.

Casey sets his own boundaries pretty well when his judgment's not clouded with crises. Sometimes, people just need a little room to breathe; maybe he'll find it for a while.

Ever know somebody who gave with their whole heart, and not just their hands?

James knows a lot of people. He wouldn't have set Casey up with anybody but good folks.

Slither As he hung up the phone, he rolled his neck to relax the kinks, then turned to the young man seated across the desk from him, and said, “C’mon, son. Let’s take you home.” The words were kindly, but spoken without much warmth. The man looked to be in his late 50s, and his office bore the clutter of years. A couple of diplomas, a number of certificates – one read, “Licensed Clinical Social Worker.” John Weaver worked for Children’s Protective Services. His eyes were dull, the eyes of a lo

I can't "like" this entry. But I can't agree more.

With five reviews from you at once, I'll answer at one time. Thanks for taking the time to read and comment. I started this story with James, and had his character fleshed out before I typed my first word, though I'm still learning more about him. Casey's tougher for me to get a handle on, but I'm starting to understand him better. Glad you're enjoying this, and I hope I keep you guessing.

All the reader comments on the storyline are telling me I'm creating something believable, and that a reader can get wrapped up in. Casey's a great guy. So's James. But we've all got strengths and faults, and sooner or later, they show. Thanks for following the story. I'm really glad you're enjoying it.

The best-laid battle plans go to hell when the first arrow is loosed. It's tempting to forget how young and inexperienced Casey is, or to blame the mother, or to rely on Ellen to be telling the truth about anything. But we've never seen the world through the characters' eyes. Thanks for all the help, and for your thoughts on the finished chapter.

"To crooked eyes, truth may wear a wry face." Things aren't always what they seem, or what we believe them to be.