Jane Pogbee (the Whittlesey Wordsmith who illustrates our anthologies) wrote a ‘part one’ giving it the title Angels, and I completed the tale the following month, taking the opportunity to remind (or introduce) readers to the mirlings…
by Jane and Cathy
Angela looked at the gravestone her parents had placed on Annette’s grave. It was a plain cross on top of a fairly plain stone with Annette’s name, date of birth and date of death. It simply said, “Sleeping with the angels” Angela knew this wasn’t true, she was sleeping with the fishes. Annette had drowned in the Manor House fishpond. It was called a pond but was more a lake.
With each passing day you wait patiently honoring my memories trusting my feelings believing in us. With each passing day you express to me your feelings and have no expectations but believe in us. With each passing day I worry about what is to come I worry about who will be here I worry that love might not be enough but you always believe in us. With each passing day I am learning to trust your love my love for you our love together that it is enough to get us through forever I am learning to believe in us as deeply as you believe in us.
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