The curtain fell, before intermission. The rusted bar smashed a dent into the stage, nearly smashed the Artful Dodger, and ended our dreams of ovations.

I held my hand on the lever as she struggled to stay afloat.

Vengeance is finally mine.

She screamed as I let in the sharks.

At some point, in her event filled life, the girl realized that she would never have enough words to describe all that she had endured.

Sometimes a song just fits your situation. Happened last night, driving my toddler home from the beach.

’97 Bonnie and Clyde came on the radio.

The piano played the sombre tune. I took one last look at my family, my friends, and then I was plunged into the freezing ice.

Hospital bills laid out on her bed. This is who you are, she said. This is what you have cost me. Being seventeen feels criminal.

Before her, no there is no before. There was just breath. Once I saw her I knew. This was it. Something I'll never regret. Ever.

Simply put. The previous evening’s events needed to be steam cleaned from the carpet. The walls cannot talk, but that carpet will tell the tale.

She stood on the stage,

letting us bask in her presence,

before she began to sing her heart out.

All cried at her melancholic beauty

"Dream big little boy," was the last thing Mama said to him.

Little changed and the boy got bigger. His dreams died, just like mama.