Sometimes I imagine myself not plummeting, but falling slowly, spiraling uncontrolled into the black; the nonentity is dizzying and cold like outer space, unsympathetic.
So Dad opened the door to the dark January night. The sky was black as pitch and cloudless, the stars brilliant, perfect white dots. He picked up his suitcase, and he said nothing as he crossed the threshold, shutting the door gently behind him. Back then, Dad looked exactly like the Renaissance era’s personification of Jesus Christ.
I feel sorry for her because she doesn’t know. The last time she saw our house, she was watching it grow smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror. But I have driven by nearly every Sunday afternoon since Mom and I moved away, and I have watched it decompose.
Our old house is a corpse. Maybe I should burn it down and dump its ashes in the lake.
© Kindra M. Austin/cover design by Allane Sinclair
Available on Amazon and Amazon UK.
Very enjoyable and meaningful quotes!
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Thank you!
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So happy to be reading this book, a powerful story and powerful writing, a sadness laced with beauty of your telling.
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You’ve just made my heart smile. Thank you, Stephen. ❤
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🤓 thank you, and this makes mine smile back. The past couple of days have found me in a “why the fuck bother” place with respect to my own writing… but writing has found me in this community and it seems that this community wants me to be a part of it…
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I go through the “why the fuck bother” as well. The curse of the creative mind. What’s wonderful about this community is love and encouragement. And I can say without a doubt that you are a fantastic writer. It really does make it worthwhile when I make connections with writers such as yourself, and Christine, and many others. 😊
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Thank you, this actually makes me cry a bit… damnit if I am not in an airport and look the fool.
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I lost my shit in the Chicago O’Hare airport bathroom once. The cleaning lady was like, ” Miss, are you okay?! Do you want me to call someone?”
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Fortunately it didn’t get that over the top… just one of those “manly” “I’m not really crying cries”
Dig?
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I dig.
And I’m sending you hearts. ❤❤
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Thanks.
I just finished the dream sequence… Wren pinching Maggie’s heart and she cannot pinch back. Really beautiful… love the arc of the story of then many relationships, broken yet strong and how you slowly reveal the details. Getting on the plane shortly and looking forward to getting back to it… but since I am in Newark…
A little Frankie… doobie doobie dooo
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Thank you so much. This story is my blood and tears. It means so much to me that you’re reading it.
Frankie…am I thinking of the right Frankie. I saw Jersey Boys and fell in love with that era all over again.
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If you are thinking of Sinatra you got the right Frankie.
Okay… I finished… chapter 45 did me in… I was like… “what! Well… damn… how the hell am I going to review this? Totally unfair…”
But totally fucking amazing, beautiful in every way.
I am so glad I read this…
And now that I am in Boston time for the Dropkicks…
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The last time I was listening to Sinatra, I was a passenger in my friends truck. We were laughing and singing, and then she drove through a fence. No lie. Geez, it’s now apparent to me that I’m not boring after all.
I love Dropkick Murphy’s.
And I’m sorry not sorry about Magpie. ❤
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You shouldn’t be… but now I gotta figure out how to twist my review!
Drove through a fence… 😝
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We weren’t drunk! Lol 😂
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Well… Frankie can make anyone a little drunk in spirit
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I do a mean version of New York, New York. I love Karaoke.
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Any version I do of karaoke is mean… 😝
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Me too, me too. The curse of the creative mind is a great title.
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“Our old house is a corpse. Maybe I should burn it down and dump its ashes in the lake.”
❤
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❤
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Dump something
Too many things with too many strings
Attach to a piece of wood causing your hands and feet to move
Yes too many…….
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❤
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