Read the first draft on my blog as I write it.
2 When Roy finished reading the last page in the journal, he read it again – his face twisting into an expression of both anger, and confusion. “Blood of the sheep,” he said, and closed the book. “Sears finally snapped. He was discharged over a year ago. How’d you get this?” “He sent it toContinue reading “BLOOD OF THE SHEEP: PART TWO”
The living room was sparsely decorated. A small table sat in one corner. A lamp (just an old thing his Mom gave him), cast off a faint glow. Next to the small table sat a vomit-stained sofa. And a coffee table littered with empty food containers, beer cans, and a nine-millimeter Beretta. Roy Chappell brushedContinue reading “BLOOD OF THE SHEEP: PART ONE”