keelydurant's profile

How does one make meaning out of suffering? Internal chaos, raging fire, that threaten to burn out the inner light. Trapped in desert sand, I swim mightily. Stranded on an island, I scream into the wind. Backed up to the cliff edge, I dip my toe into the cold universe. At the crossroads, I fight the tides that pull at me. I do not understand Snow on yellow daffodils; Copper leaves suffocating green grass; Rain on a sunny day; I do not understand Coffins made for babies; Blood stains on a whi...

Chapter 2 Twenty minutes away from the accident, in a sprawling subdivision, Lieutenant Matthew Dix sat in his unmarked police cruiser, his feet dangling out the driver’s side door, one hand clutching a clipboard, the other gripping his radio receiver. His laptop was plugged into the police dispatch program, and he watched the words scrawl across the screen, as the dispatcher’s dispassionate voice echoed the words. “Multiple vehicle accident on 285 at exit 4B. All available...

Mercy “But it was for mercy,” I wanted to scream. My wrists ached from the handcuffs which bit into my skin. My head spun with the cadence of blue which cast a blipping light into my retina as I stared out the window of the police car. Didn’t even Jesus himself say, “Blessed are the merciful, for they shall be given mercy?” I had learned my lesson with the squirrel. Didn’t they know that I had made my mistake before? I could not do it again. It had been...

Chapter 1 It was only by mistake that we found the house in the first place. It was in an auction advertisement buried in the middle of The Staunton Gazette. We had stopped off for lunch at a roadside barbeque restaurant in the little town of Staunton, Georgia. The paper had been left on our table; I casually flipped it open, and there it was. The house from my nightmares. I had been having dreams lately, starting before Jason and I left on our trip to visit his brother. In the dream, I was...

Mercy “But it was for mercy,” I wanted to scream. My wrists ached from the handcuffs which bit into my skin. My head spun with the cadence of blue which cast a blipping light into my retina as I stared out the window of the police car. Didn’t even Jesus himself say, “Blessed are the merciful, for they shall be given mercy?” I had learned my lesson with the squirrel. Didn’t they know that I had made my mistake before? I could not do it again. It had been...