They say her name was Lola but she was decidedly not a showgirl. She always roams the mist laden woods out behind Lot Teedle’s junkyard in the spooky evenings of October. Some say she looks for children to snatch. Others claim she looks to bring pain and misery to happy couples walking hand in hand on cool autumn nights. Those folks haven’t done their research. Truth is Lola has a past as drear...

It always started the same way. A white, dusty tendril from an old elm tree creeping into town. That’s when you knew they were coming. We had heard the anxious whisperings of such an occurance three towns over. It didn’t end well… it never does.

The town elders had already shut themselves into an old, rusty horse barn. Intent on devising a plan and desperate to provide hope. Everyone else t...

The sun warm on my skin in the places the umbrella doesn’t quite cover. Ladies in rompers and colorful dresses snapping selfies and holding the skinny stem of their glass. The guys who got wrangled into joining hiding behind sunglasses and observing their surroundings. The slight chill of a glass brimming with more buttery chardonnay and the drips of condensation that quickly form outside of it....

Why do we remember all the good times as we grapple with the end? The way he looked into my eyes right before saying he loved me. The Billy Joel song that was playing the time we drove around looking at sparkling Christmas lights the night I knew I loved him. It’s a cruel loop these happy memories.

To heal, to really heal, you have to let the bad in with the good. To see the relationship for t...