Greg Dollarhide

Copyright 2005 by Greg Dollarhide


Photo of Nashville, Tn. in the early morning.  (c) 2004 by Richard Loller.
Photo (c) 2004 by Richard Loller.

Jack figured Cheryl would always be there. They grew up together. They went to school together. Cheryl was Jack’s first playmate. Cheryl was Jack’s first kiss. Cheryl was even Jack’s first awkward sexual adventure. They seemed to always be together. Even their families bought cabins at the lake, and spent summer vacations together.

It was late in Jack’s senior year in high school that Cheryl started talking about moving to New York after graduation. Where else could I continue acting on stage she told him. Jack never believed she would. However, in early September after graduation, it became obvious to Jack that Cheryl had not been kidding. Cheryl was serious, and Jack was heartbroken.

Jack didn’t date during his first two years in college. Hoping Cheryl would return, and they could be together again. It was not until he hadn’t heard from her for nearly nine months that he even noticed there were girls on campus.

There was one girl in particular on campus that kept Jack’s head turning. A pretty brunet, with a warm smile named Becky that seemed to be in the library as much as he was. It was not until an accident in the library, that they even said two words too each other.

 Jack rounded the corner into the library, when all of a sudden. Whack! Jack’s head collided with hers. They both rounded a blind corner at the same time, and books, pencils, and paper, scattered on the floor. Jack looked down, and Becky sat on the floor holding her head. She was laughing to hide her embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry.” Jack said.

 Becky looked up, realizing it was Jack. She saw the pain on Jack’s face, not realizing however that it was not from the blow to the head.

 “Are you alright?” Jack asked.

 “I think so.” Becky replied.

Jack extended his hand to help her to her feet, and then quickly started gathering up their things.

“Jack? Right?” Becky asked


 “I thought so.” Becky said hiding the fact that she also was well aware of who he was. “Do you have a study partner for the anthropology exam coming up?”

 “Nope.” Jack replied.

“Well, how about we work together?” Becky asked.

 “That would be great.” Jack replied.

Becky grabbed Jack’s hand, and quickly scribbled her phone number onto his sweaty palm.

 “I will be home at seven.” Becky said over her shoulder as she walked away.

 That was nine years ago.


Within a year of Jack, and Becky’s graduation, Becky became Mrs. Learner- O’Brian. Life was good. Jack wanted to write, but when that didn’t happen he was content on teaching college level English. Becky worked with at risk children, and taught grade school. They were happy, and had no problems, until the e-mails started coming.

 It took nine years, but Cheryl was finally home sick. The e-mails were innocent enough, but Becky couldn’t help herself. She was jealous, and didn’t like the e-mails one bit. She tried biting her tongue, but she was unsuccessful, she made it clear to Jack how she felt. Jack knew he had to do something, so his last e-mail was to let Cheryl know that they could no longer communicate.

“Today is my day to stay after, and watch the kids until their parents pick them up.” Becky said as she laid the news paper down, and stood up.

 “That’s okay. I have to stay late at the university anyway.”

Becky kissed Jack, and said she loved him before leaving the house. Jack finished his breakfast, and went to his study to grade papers, and read his mail.

Jack shuffled through the mail separating bills from junk, until he came across a big manila envelope. The name didn’t seem familiar on the return address. Who is Ralph Crance? Jack thought to himself. He opened the envelope, and started reading the letter inside.

“No, no. This all wrong.” Jack spoke out loud as he started reading the clippings from the New York news paper.

 Jack slammed the letter down on his desk, and went out to his truck. With his eyes vacant, and distant he pulled down the driveway, and onto the road. Completely oblivious to the passing of time. It was only when Jack passed a sign that read Blake’s Creek population 798, he realized how far he had come. As he passed the sign, the road turned sharply, but Jack did not. The truck hit loose gravel, and slid through a ditch, and then a fence. The truck came to a halt, and Jack felt odd. Disconnected as if he was standing back watching it all happen. He got out of the truck, and surveyed for damage. Then he returned to the truck, and eased back onto the highway.

 As Jack arrived home, he saw an ominous orange glow becoming brighter. It was not until he hit the foot of his long winding driveway, he realized the orange glow was his house.

 “Holy shit!” Jack yelled seeing his house fully a blaze.

 “Becky!” Jack screamed as he tried to enter the house through the burning garage.

 No use. He tried the front the door. He tried the back door, but the fire was too much. Jack continued screaming for Becky until the fire department showed up. All was lost. House, car, and Becky.


Jack slept a lot through the blur of time since Becky’s death. It was the only escape he had. Sleep and beer got him through the days, weeks, and months. Jack moved to his favorite childhood place after Becky’s passing. The cabin in Blake’s Creek where he spent so many days as a child.

Jack made a few friends in town, and would, when he felt like company go and visit. When he shut himself in, Harley the town cop, would come, and check in on him. Harley would stay around long enough to ask about the fishing, and make sure Jack was not going to go and live with them.

 When Jack would go into town to pick up groceries he would stop off at Gates Garage to visit with Randall Gates, and Jim Pickering. They would carry on for a while, drink a few beers, and talk about the important town news.

“Hey. There’s a newbie in town.” Randall said as they were leaning against a car sipping beer.

“Pretty hot too. I think I am going to try and get a piece of that action.” Jim replied.

 “Yeah, and Charlene is going to kick your ass.” Randall told him.

 “I think it would be worth it. New York pussy. I’ve never had New York pussy.”

 “New York? What’s a girl from New York doing here?” Jack asked.

 “Don’t know.” Randall answered.

 “Speak of the Devil.” Jim said as he turned, and headed for the gas pumps.

 The woman got out of the car, and Jack couldn’t believe it. It had been more than eleven years since he last saw Cheryl, and there she was.

 “I know her.” Jack said as he walked out into the sunlight.

 Cheryl looked up, and then down, and then back up again when she noticed who was standing there.

 “Jack? Jack!” Cheryl screamed as she ran toward him. Cheryl grabbed Jack, and hugged him tightly, and Jack responded in like.

 “What are you doing here?” Jack asked.

 “Long story. How have you been?”

 “Probably even a longer story.” Jack replied.

 “Dinner, tonight at my place. We have so much to talk about.” Cheryl said. You know where it is.”

 “I will see you at six.” Jack responded.


Cheryl stepped off of the Greyhound bus into the grayness of the New York bus station. Cheryl couldn’t believe that only a few short months ago she had graduated high school, and was now in the Big Apple.

The starry eyed teen managed easy enough to find a place to live, and settled in quickly. Before the fall semester of college started, she decided to get her feet wet on a New York stage. Cheryl nailed her first audition. The director could tell she was green, but new there was potential there. She continued working off Broadway for the next couple of years, and then all at once things were no longer clicking for her. Cheryl had to find a real job.

Janis was the one good friend Cheryl made in New York, and figured she might be able to help her come up with a job. Maybe Janis could get her a job at the club she worked in. Janis said she would put a good word in with the owner. Cheryl felt things would start getting easier when Janis also invited Cheryl to move in, and split the rent.

Cheryl did not even realize, until she asked Janis for directions to the club, that she had never been there. She did not even know the name of the place. Janis never invited her there, so Cheryl never went. When Janis told her about the place all was made clear. Cheryl exited the cab looking up at the sign on the building shaking her head. The G-Spot.

“I guess It isn’t a myth after all.” Cheryl muttered to herself.

 It took several seconds for her eyes to adjust, after coming in off of the sunlit street. The smell of smoke, and beer was badly masked by the sweet smell of perfume. Looked like a typical bar on first inspection. It was the two little stages, and the one larger stage that gave away what the place was.

A deejay’s amplified voice belted out in a draw that no way came from New York. “Give it up for Trix gentlemen. We have one from Gun’s and Roses coming up as Lace takes the main stage.”

 Cheryl watched as Janis took position on the big stage, and “Welcome to the Jungle” played throughout the room. Cheryl couldn’t believe her room mate as she clutched the pole, bent over backwards, and smiled at the guy waving a twenty in her direction. Janis went through her routine of prancing around the stage tossing her hair to the beat of the music.

After a couple more songs Janis exited through a curtain stage right. Moments later she appeared through a doorway off stage. She walked up to Cheryl swinging her hips from under a lace robe.

 “Lace?” Cheryl asked.

 “It works.” Janis replied.

“I don’t know about this.”

“Don’t worry about it. You’ll be serving drinks.” Janis said as she winked at Cheryl. “Let’s go meet Stan.”

 The girls rounded the bar, and stepped behind a door leading to the little office where a dark, but beautiful man sat at a desk. Stan punched numbers into a calculator, and after the click, click, click of the tape he would tear it off, shake his head, and then staple it to the paper he had in his hand. Then on to the next.

 “This her?” Stan asked never looking up.

 “Cheryl this is Stan. Stan, Cheryl.” Janis introduced.

 “Start tonight Nickie.” Stan said as he made a quick glance up.

 “Cheryl.” Cheryl quickly corrected.

“Not in here it isn’t.” Stan replied.

 “Darling Nickie.” Janis laughed as they exited the office.

 “I get it, but I am not doing the magazine thing.” Cheryl said smugly.


Cheryl was right about the magazine thing, at least for about six months. Do a couple of shots, smoke a little weed, and it is amazing what someone will do with just a little coaxing. It was Janis that invited “Nickie” onto the stage the first time. They were a hit dancing together, and eventually “Nickie” was a solo hit. Cheryl thought maybe it was that innocent mid-western thing. Janis knew it was because with the right amount of make-up, and hairspray even a librarian could appear sluttish.

It wasn’t long after Cheryl started dancing that Stan really took notice, and it wasn’t long after Stan took notice that they started seeing each other outside of work. “Nickie” became the “Queen Bitch” of the bar, and Stan got his Prince song. The only problem was when Stan considered the relationship exclusive, and Cheryl found herself more, and more attracted to Janis. Maybe it was dancing together, or just the time they spent alone at home.

 The relationship started slow. First it was the comfort they felt talking, and holding hands in the living room, then the holding hands turned into hugs. They had fallen asleep together a couple of times on the couch waking up in each others arms. Then they found themselves waking up in bed together. Cheryl had never done anything like this before, but found herself not caring as long as it felt right.

It was when Stan walked in on Cheryl and Janis in the dressing room kissing that everything went to hell.

 “What the fuck!” Stan exclaimed.

 Cheryl chased Stan into the bar, and then into the little office.

 “I thought you knew.” Cheryl said.

 “Knew what? You’re a lesbian? You like to fuck chicks?” How am I supposed to know, when you don’t tell me?”

 “I really like you Stan, but I like Janis too.”

 “No! I can’t have that!” Stan yelled at Cheryl.

 Cheryl had never seen this side of Stan, and realized then and there she did not like it. He was a man transformed into something evil. There was a spark in his eye, and a jealousy in his voice that scared her.

 “You two settle down.” Janis said as she entered the office.

 “You shut the fuck up! Get your shit, and get the fuck out of my bar.“ Stan said never taking his eyes off of Cheryl.

 “Stan wait!” Cheryl responded.

“You want to get your shit, and get the fuck out of my bar too? Then you can also shut the fuck up!”

Cheryl turned, and headed out the door crying, and yelling for Janis to wait up.

 “You run out the door, don’t ever come back!” Cheryl heard shouted from behind the office door.


Although phone calls came, Cheryl didn’t see Stan over the next couple of weeks. Stan would call and beg her to come back, and in the same breath turn on her about Janis. Over the next months Cheryl and Janis got even closer. They considered themselves more than just friends, but a couple.

Cheryl decided that maybe it was time to try her hand at the stage again, and left for an audition early one morning. The audition went smoothly. It was nothing to brag about, but she got a call back.

As Cheryl was returning from the audition she knew something was wrong. Why were the police at her building? It was Cheryl’s worst nightmare come true. Stan had broke into the apartment, and had mistaken Janis for Cheryl. As Janis woke up, and looked to the doorway expecting to see Cheryl, a shotgun blast took her face completely off. Stan didn’t realize it wasn’t Cheryl until after he had pulled the trigger.

 Cheryl knew exactly what happened, and who it happened by. She over heard the detectives saying that there was no sign of a struggle. When Cheryl heard that the door was not even forced open she collapsed to the ground crying realizing that there would have been no need for that. She had given Stan the key to the apartment six months ago.

 “They still haven’t caught him, and that is why I am here.” Cheryl told Jack with a tear in her eye.


Jack awoke from a fitful sleep not feeling very rested. One bad dream led into another as Jack could not get Cheryl’s story out of his head. It wasn’t until Cheryl started describing Stan that Jack had a very disturbing revelation. Holy shit. This guy could still be coming after her. Great. Jack thought to himself. The dark, beautiful guy with the evil in his eyes just might be coming to tenderize Cheryl’s face with shot.

 Jack moved around the cabin all morning sipping coffee, and reading the news paper. After Jack finished reading he hopped into the shower. Jack dried himself as he stared into his closet. The closet just seemed to laugh at Jack reminding him he hasn’t been on a date in a very long time.

“I guess my day is planned.” Jack said as he pulled a pair of blue jeans, and a t-shirt from his closet.


Jack arrived back in Blake’s Creek after spending a good portion of his morning, and afternoon in Springfield shopping for clothes. After a quick shower, and shave Jack once again found himself bounding up the driveway leading to Cheryl’s cabin.

With a skip in his step he exited the truck, and made his way around the corner of the cabin, and onto the front porch. He straightened his tie while looking at his reflection in the glass door. When his confidence was there he knocked. Cheryl opened the door to see Jack standing there pulling at the sleeves of his new jacket, and straightening the lapels.

Jack looked at Cheryl as he entered the house soaking in the leggy blonde wearing the little black number that all women have hanging in their closets. Cheryl placed the finishing touches on her outfit by placing a strand of dangling diamonds in her ears, and grabbing her little black clutch.


The ’58 Caddy snorted, and growled as it tore through the night on a mission. It pawed its way up the highway bent on revenge, death, blood, and savagery. Stan left New York in the middle of the night after retrieving the car from storage, and making a quick stop by a friends house on the other side of the river. Stan’s friend Ralph sat in the dark with only the glow from his computer screen lighting the room. The guy was the epitome of computer geek. He knew it all. RAM, ROM, bytes, cache, all that shit Stan couldn’t care less about. After a couple of minutes of typing the printer started humming.

 “Here you go.” Ralph said as he pulled the page from the printer, and handed it to Stan. “Blake’s Creek, Missouri. Wherever the hell that is.”

 Stan studied the page seeing address, recent purchases, air line information, and a complete map to the target of his maddness.


Jack and Cheryl finished dinner, and the waiter came with the bill. Cheryl reached into her clutch, and pulled out a credit card. “What are you doing?” Jack asked.

 “I am buying dinner.” Cheryl replied.

 “Don’t you think that is kind of dangerous?”

 “How do you mean?”

“Well, those things are traceable. You know? Psyco is still out there.” Jack said shaking his head.

 Cheryl didn’t even think about that, and now was scared. She had made quite a few purchases with it since she had left New York.

 “I am so stupid.” Cheryl said as tears stated filling her eyes.

 “No, no, no. Don’t cry it will be alright.” Jack said as he held Cheryl tight trying to comfort her. “I will talk to Harley tomorrow, and let him know what is up. It’ll be alright.”

Jack replaced her card with his own not letting her go. The waiter quickly returned, and the transaction was completed. Jack and Cheryl stood, and left the resteraunt with their arms around each other’s waists. Jack held on determined to never let her go again. Nothing was said all the way back to Cheryl’s place.


Larry Adelson maneuvered his way off the highway, and into the gravel parking lot of the rest stop. He pulled his tractor trailer around another that sat parked with engine running, and then an ominous black behemoth that sat resting. It was hard to make out in the dark, but it had to be the biggest car he had ever seen. After climbing down from the cab of his truck he stretched, and walked towards the trees that outlined the little picnic area, since there was not a toilet here.

 Larry jumped as a loud blast rang out. He looked over his shoulder back towards the car. Barely making out a sihlouet of a person opening the car door, and stepping out into the morning.

“What the fuck was that?” Larry said to himself as he crouched behind his make shift latrine. Then it became obvious as another blast, and a flash of light came from the sihlouet. The shadow unloaded the second barrel of his gun into the victim. The Shadow stood looking around for a moment, and then hopped back into the car, and sped off into the night. When the vehicle was out of sight Larry quickly moved to his truck, and radioed for help.


As the sun was fully beginning to show itself Stan pulled the car onto a road that looked rarely used. He found a place behind a cluster of trees to hide the car, and rest while he got his head together enough to decide what to do next. He stepped from his place of safety, and shut the door while clutching the shot gun. Staying well off the road that was no more than a trail, he moved through the trees.

 After a short hike he came across an old house in bad need of repair. As he made his way carefully onto the porch the front door cracked open just enough for him to see two old eyes peaking out at him.

 “Get on outta here. We don’t need any.” Came a voice behind the cracked door, and then the door was shut, and the sound of the dead lock clicked into place.

 Stan said nothing as he made his way to the door, and with one forceful blow kicked the door open.


After Jack placed a call to Harley they were instructed to come in, and talk. Jack and Cheryl entered the police station, and saw Harley sitting behind his desk looking over a fax. As they approached Harley said nothing just handed the fax to Jack, and waited for a response. Jack finished looking over the fax, and knew what it was all about. Cheryl read the fax covering her mouth with her hand.

 “It’s him.” Cheryl said.

 “Now let’s not jump to conclusions.” Jack replied.

 “No. That car. I recognize the description. 1958 Cadillac. I have been in that car before.” Cheryl shot back.

 “Give him the picture.” Jack said as he helped Cheryl unsling her purse.

 Cheryl handed Harley a picture of Stan telling him this is the guy who did it.

“That all happened just ten miles outside of Springfield. He could be in town as we speak.” Harley said from behind the desk with his hands clasped in front of him. “Springfield is calling New York to see what they know. Is there anything else you can tell me that might help out?”

 “He knows where I am.” Cheryl answered. “I have been using credit cards.” “We’ll git em. In the meantime I wouldn’t stay by yourself.”

 “She is going to be staying with me.” Jack answered.

“Good. Stay with Jack, and if anything, I mean anything comes up call me immediately.”

 “Thanks.” Jack said as they exited the station.

 Cheryl squeezed Jack’s hand tight sitting next to him in the truck. Jack put the truck in gear, and motioned Cheryl to move over next him. Cheryl laid her head on his shoulder, and sighed deeply.

 “Thanks for being here for me. I don’t know what I would do without you.” Cheryl said as she pushed herself even closer into Jack.

 “My feelings have never changed for you.” Jack said as he looked into Cheryl’s eyes just before pulling out onto the road heading back to his cabin.

“What is that car doing?” Jack asked as he looked in his rear view mirror just before the ’58 Caddy smashed into his rear bumper. “Hold on!

“Jack!” Cheryl screamed as the car tagged them again.

 It was baring down on them again when Jack noticed the Cadillac slowing down. Momentarily there was relief, but it was short lived. Jack turned his attention back to the road just in time to see it curve. The pick-up hit the gravel, and flipped as it went through the ditch. As the truck rolled everything in Jack’s mind went black.


Jack struggled against whatever obstacle was holding him. Then the horror became clear as he heard sirens blaring. “Come on Jack. You have to relax.” The paramedic said struggling against Jack.

“Cheryl! Where is Cheryl?” Jack started yelling as his voice began trailing off, and everything was turning fuzzy, and going black once more.

 “Don’t worry sir you were the only one in the accident.” The paramedic responded as the struggle lessened.


Stan killed the engine, and stepped from the car. After making his way around to the passenger side door he opened it, and drug Cheryl from her seat. Unable to move, Cheryl looked up at Stan bug eyed and bruised. She hit the ground with a thud.

Stan ignored the bone protruding from her leg as he tugged her toward the porch of the old run down house. Not stopping to make Cheryl more comfortable, but on a mission to bring Cheryl back into his life. Through his dementia he just knew that she would realize how much he loved her. But for now he had to get her alone so he could explain this to her. Before leaving the old house to hunt for Cheryl, he placed a call to Ralph back in New York. Ralph accepted the invitation to join Stan in Missouri to help him take care of Cheryl.

 He pulled Cheryl up the old three stepped porch. Thunk, thunk, thunk Cheryl’s head sounded bouncing off each of the old steps. Stan backed his way through the doorway, and looked around the room as the old couple smiled, welcoming him back. Stan continued dragging Cheryl towards the end of the hallway, and into a bed room. After getting Cheryl into bed, he covered her up, and kissed her on the forehead. Stan dozed off in a chair, and slept well into the night until he was awakened by the sound of Cheryl’s voice.

 “Stan, Stan.” Came Cheryl’s voice to Stan’s ears.

 “Well you finally decided to join the realm of the living.” Stan replied as he opened his eyes. Stan sat at Cheryl’s side apologizing for all of the horrible things he had done. He recounted his story to her. He told her how he found the old house, and how he changed his mind about killing her. He then told Cheryl that Ralph should be here anytime, and he is going to help too. Stan knew he was forgiven by the smile on Cheryl’s face.

As Stan took care of Cheryl he was happy to see her recovery was moving quickly. Cheryl told him that she was starting to feel much better, and invited him into her bed.


Ralph arrived in Blake’s Creek, and was happy to see it was a short trip to the house. Ralph eased up the steps, and as he was reaching for the door a putrid odor reached his nose.

 “Mother fucker!” Ralph said as he put his hand over his nose trying to block the smell. “Stan! You in there!” Ralph yelled.

 When he got no reply he continued into the house. As he entered the first thing he noticed was the heat. It him like opening an oven door. Then he heard the loud buzzing of insects. He reached for the light switch, and when he flipped it on he couldn’t believe his eyes. The old couple sat with their heads partly missing.

“Oh man this is just not right.” Ralph muttered to himself.

He breathed through his mouth, but it seemed he could taste what he was smelling, and his stomach heaved. .

 “Stan.” Ralph spoke no longer yelling.

 The floor furnace creaked as Ralph stepped across it towards the hallway. As he reached the open doorway the smell of death that had faded slightly, suddenly regained its strength. In the darkened room he could make out a lump on the bed. Should I, or shouldn’t I went through his head as he debated with himself about turning the light on. “One, two, THREE!” Then the flick of the switch.

 Standing speechless in the doorway he watched in horror, and disgust as Stan raised from his sleep. Stan had been curled up with Cheryl. At least what Ralph thought was Cheryl. Yes. He was sure it was Cheryl, but it was the lifeless Cheryl. It was the dead Cheryl.

 “Hey man.” Stan said as he rubbed his eyes awake. “Cheryl wake up Ralph finally made it.”

 Cheryl didn’t wake up. She was way beyond being able to do that. As Stan raised up the covers dropped. Ralph could see the mess, and the stomach expulsion started again.

 “Dude. What the fuck did you do?” Ralph muttered.

“She’s mine again.” Stan said as he started making his way out of bed.

 “You can have her.” Ralph said as he exited the room.


Harley was the first to show up in front of Gate’s Garage where Ralph sat inside his car waiting. Ralph couldn’t give directions to the 911 operator, so he wanted someone to meet him there. Ralph told Harley the best he could about what he had seen, and where the house was. Harley knew immediately where it was. Mr. and Mrs. Jenkins had been one of his regular stops on patrol. They were getting along in years, so he stopped in a couple of times a week just to check up on them.

The four wheel drive rooster tailed the gravel, and dirt as Harley sped off. It was no time at all that he had made it to the turn off, and slung the SUV sideways nearly tipping into the thicket of weeds. He made it to the house just in time to see Stan shutting the passenger side door to the black Cadillac. Harley brought the four-wheel drive to a halt.

Crouching behind the open door Harley yelled. “Don’t you fuckin move!” And then a shotgun blast rang in his ears.

 Harley grabbed his shotgun, as Stan made his way to the driver side door. As the car was backing up the shot gun blast hit its target. A small flash, followed by a larger flash, and then the Caddy was fully engulfed by flames. Stan jumped out of the car flailing around on fire, and Harley started to the rear of his vehicle to get his fire extinguisher then spoke out loud.

“Fuck it. Let him burn.”


Jack awoke, and a female voice was speaking his name. He tried to look around, but his eyes were covered by bandages. “Cheryl?” Jack slurred.

 He heard the voice again yelling down the hallway for a doctor, but the voice was not quite right. He couldn’t place why, but it wasn’t. Jack continued listening as he heard the voice talking to who he assumed was a doctor.

 “Doctor, I think he is waking up, but he thinks I am Cheryl.”

 Becky stood in the hallway talking with the doctor. She handed the doctor the manila envelope she had found on Jack’s desk. Becky told the doctor about Cheryl, and the e-mails.

The doctor opened the envelope, and read the letter. As the doctor read he started looking through the newspaper clippings that had come from New York. The name Cheryl started making more since to him as he read the article.

“You say that you found this on his desk?” The doctor asked.

 “Yes. Three days ago.” Becky responded. “Why would he think I am Cheryl?”

 “Don’t know. But trauma can play tricks with someone’s mind.”

 Becky reopened the envelope, and studied the pictures in the article. She didn’t quite understand why Jack would think she was Cheryl, when he knew well enough she had died in New York in a car crash. Becky reread the caption under each of the three photos. Fiery car accident claims two victims, was under a picture of a burning car. Cheryl Stanford, and Stan Crawford were printed under the other two photos.

I have lived in Springfield, Missouri, all my life.  I have never tried to be published, but I am currently working on a novel that I would like to see in print someday.  My story, "Lucidity', is a condensed version of the first section.

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