Calendar Girl

Maybe there was something in those boxes that would shed a little light onto whatever was going on.

That wouldn’t be as bad, she rationalized, as peeking into his date book. Because whatever was in those boxes was just stuff.

And now his stuff, as Jeannie would say, was her stuff.


Melinda entered the storage area through a heavy, locked door.

This was not a place she came to often. It scared her to be in this dark, dankly cold and windowless chamber. They kept little here of any real use or value.

A small corridor wound around a maze of tiny rooms walled in chicken wire. The bare bulb cast just enough light to create vague, ominous shadows.

About me

This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)