Jeannie Wisto
Stories (2)
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Little Black Book
It was a Friday afternoon in mid-January. The sun was low on the horizon and mostly obscured by heavy clouds. I walked briskly down the suburban sidewalk from my house to the local grocery store a mile away. There were a few stubborn residents in the area with Christmas lights still twinkling in the dusk, and a few diehard patches of snow that had refused to melt. I walked past a smart looking high peaked two story and noticed a particularly large patch of snow on the shady side of the house, which looked like the remnants of a sad, left over snow angel. A small rectangular shape caught my eye. It was made of a shiny black material that reflected the flashing Christmas lights on the house next door.
By Jeannie Wisto5 years ago in Horror
Little Black Book
Its early afternoon in mid-January and I am in the second day of a road trip, driving my newly purchased old car west on I-40, slowly approaching the Texas panhandle. There is very little traffic but we have all slowed to a crawl due to an icy rain. The storm is moving east and I am moving west, so I am hopeful that I will reach New Mexico by nightfall. I haven’t decided on my final destination yet, but it will be in the southwest part of the country and it will be somewhere warm. This journey west is the result of a series of odd events that I’m still having trouble wrapping my head around. It started two days ago as I was walking through my neighborhood to the grocery store.
By Jeannie Wisto5 years ago in Humans
