beat they sat down to write songs knuckles out, on clenched fists making the skin of a drumhead feel a this, this, this contemplated a rhythm line what, of another land, would do Of seven sands, of seven shores melt them into glass, and mold them into flutes And voices, ten at once in their timbres One note alone from each cohort…

Are You Haunted (part fifty-nine) “Old Davis is a shell. He doesn’t know who you are, he didn’t order his son to hire you, and young Davis doesn’t either, I promise, know who you are.” “That’s not the way we talk about the poor suffering.” Chiding me, when I’m an adult and a married woman… It had been her thought. “Grandad, they cannot need…

Sequence of Events Chapter Two Mud in Your Eye Badgley’s Detective’s Notebook Cyrus Badgley and M. Milton Hoagley Revised edition, 1916 CHAPTER ONE Demeanor and Gist A fellow visits his Aunt Francie, and the two repair to her front veranda, to enjoy a pitcher of iced tea. As she speaks to her nephew of her rheumatism, other voices intrude, a low and a high one.

Sequence of Events Chapter Two Mud in Your Eye Bruner crawled his Ford on a street…Redbud Lane, Freda thought she’d seen…where small white houses sat at the backs of long gardens. Or grass lawns, mostly, unfenced, unwalled, naked privet hedges dividing them, graveled tracks where cars were driven in. A few with proper garages. Bruner waved at the postman and waited, and Freda understood them to have arrived.

Are You Haunted (part fifty-eight) “We’re stopping over on Sycamore, little street off Canal. The Keegans live just at the corner, practically neighbors of Mrs. Drybrook’s. I told Keegan I was curious to know why he happened to be around the place yesterday. We’re gonna swing by and pick him up.” Keegan waited at the curb with a wooden toolbox, and on their heads beside him, a steel mallet and sledgehammer.