Short stories, offering glimpses into different realities.
A Trail Of Dust
We were heading to Grampa and Gramma Kellan’s place for the holidays. Gramma would slip us some hard candy before Grampa took us back with him to “earn our keep” by sweeping, picking up tools, or playing around in the barn while he finished his work. “Don't touch it,” he'd warn us. “No time today for the Moon.”