Friday Fictioneers again, a great way to delve into the creative juices of a rag tag bunch of eclectic dabblers. Get yourself over follow the link and join in the fun.
The memories of school still strangled her soul. Sat at the back, nobody saw, nobody cared. She was just the girl with the raggedy hair. Her mamma always said ‘sticks and stones can break your bones but names will never hurt you’. But mamma was wrong, the pain had been real, the pain had been a fire that never went out.
A week after the ‘Class of 95’ reunion the police were no further forward. The disappearance of the Prom Queen was looking like a murder hunt but her body still hadn’t been found.
Sticks and stones can break your bones but they can also bury those that taunt you.