- MY WRITING
- ON WRITING
When she reached the shelf where the large atlases were kept, she stopped short. Something caught her eye. Alex could swear something moved on the spine of one of the large hardbound atlases.
That’s weird, she thought. Carefully, she leaned closer. Just at that moment the room darkened.
Monday morning on Hornbeam Lake. Norman and Randy tiptoed out of the bunkroom and down the hall avoiding any squeaks and creaks that might awaken the sleeping dragon: Mrs. Black. They grabbed apples from the kitchen then carefully, quietly eased back the sliding glass door and stepped out onto deck. It was early Monday morning. Not long past sunrise.