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Your Child’s Next Book!

Thomas the sea turtle isn't certain he approves of BertieExcerpt from “Bertie, the Bookworm and the Bully Boys  (c)  A very large, beautiful sea turtle came down the path.  He wore a bright red kerchief tied at his neck and a captain’s cap on his head.

“A-hoy there, mates. ‘ Tis a fair wind at my back that blew me to my home port.”
Donald and Emma rushed forward and hugged Thomas almost knocking him over.
“Steady as she goes, mates. You’re about to knock me off me’ pins.” Thomas laughed.
“Oh, Thomas, we are so happy that you are home.” Emma cried.
“How was your voyage?” Donald asked.
“Rough seas around Cape Horn but that’s the way the ’horn’ is.  We came back with a hold full of spices and teas from the Orient. I have to tell you that I miss the constellations in the southern hemisphere. But, all in all it’s good to be at anchor and  to see my friends again.”
“We could have a reading circle about the stars in other hemispheres.” Bertie said.
“Oh!  Excuse me, Bertie, for not including you.  Do you know our friend, Thomas the sea turtle?”
“I can’t say as I’ve had the pleasure, Emma.”
“Thomas, this is our dear friend and teacher, Bertie, the bookworm.” Donald said.
“Well, blow us over and wet me sails.”
Thomas looked Bertie over. “You’re an old one, ain’t ya?”  Thomas declared.
“I’ve lived some years, it’s true,” Bertie replied.
“Thomas! I know you didn’t mean that as rudely as it sounded.
Bertie is a respected elder of the forest. He teaches all of us how to read and spell better.
He introduces us to many new words. It’s very exciting.” Emma scolded.
“No harm done, Emma. I know that Mr. Thomas didn’t mean anything by that. It’s true, I am old.”
“It’s Captain Thomas, if you don’t mind.” Thomas told him.
“Sorry, of course, Captain Thomas.” Bertie smiled.
Thomas turned to Emma. “So, Emma, what brings you so far? You’ve set your sails a far league from your home port.”
“Slam and his gang took Bertie’s eye glasses more »

Looking for a Good Mystery?

Do you read mysteries? Then you’ll love this mystery series set in the tough streets of New York City. 1.worldofmurderBW..NEW.USE._820 - Copy (2)Detective Jack O’Roarke, a big rough Irish cop, and his gentle, lady-like partner, Stella Garcia (make no mistake; she can take down a perp twice her size) enter the mysterious world of stripper clubs, art museums, Broadway theatre, the priesthood, and cooking shows to catch their killer.

The series begins with The Art of Murder and currently ends with the most recent, The Taste of Murder, which takes you behind the scenes of reality cooking shows. Please enjoy the following excerpt.

Patrick Shelley, dressed in his signature pink dress shirt and matching paisley tie, walked up to O’Roarke and dropped a case file box on his desk, barely missing the detective’s nose. Another detective, right behind Pat, set two more boxes on a chair and, snorting in disgust, walked away. Pat scowled down at O’Roarke as he flipped open the lid.
“What’s this?” Homicide Detective O’Roarke asked.
“A cold case of mine.” The cop barked. “Boss said to give it to you.” more »

‘(Beneath) The Bridge of Murder’ Coming Soon!!

Here’s just a taste of what’s coming.  I’m currently working on Book 6 “Beneath The Bridge of Murder”.

A serial killer is knocking off the homeless and dumping them in the East River.  Detectives O’Roarke and Garcia can hardly keep up with the crime scenes popping up all over Manhattan.

Excerpt:

©  “Where we headed?” O’Roarke asked as they pulled out of the CJB parking lot.
“Dispatch just texted me. We’re to meet Marine Patrol at the docks just south of Liberty. They fished it out north of the Staten Island ferry docks. Get on the FDR. I know that area, we don’t have to use your friend, the GPS.” Stella laughed.
“Thank God for small mercies.” O’Roarke grumbled.
Once on the FDR Parkway the wind, off the East River, drove snowflakes against the city issued sedan. It was going to be a cold, miserable day on the river. Twenty minutes later O’Roarke pulled in between two warehouses with docks sticking out into the river like frozen fingers. A patrol car with flashing blue lights and the Medical Examiner’s van were already parked near the water. The two murder cops could see the upper structure of the NYPD Marine Patrol boat.
As they walked from their car they saw a cluster of people around a body bag on the ground.
“Hey, Ruby, wha’cha got for us?” O’Roarke addressed the ME.
“A floater, been in the water about twenty-four to forty-eight hours by the look of him.”
Two sad blue eyes were all that was visible of the ME’s face. She was bundled in scarves, hat and long woolen coat. Her blue latex gloves were a sharp colorful contrast to the browns and blues of her outerwear.
“Patrol found him floating out in the middle. The captain of one of the ferries called it in. Said he almost ran the deceased over.”
The ME, Ruby Crutchner, had successfully worked countless cases with the two detectives. Under the mild grandmother type persona was the brain of a brilliant forensic scientist and pathologist.
“No identification and judging by his clothing I would guess that he’s one of our homeless. Age about fifty to sixty. I’ll know more about age and such when I get him in my house.”
“Ma’am, if you’re done with us, we’ll get back on the water, if that’s okay.” The harbor patrol officer asked.
“Yes, certainly. Jack?” Ruby replied.
“Yeah, just send me over your report when you get a chance. Here’s my card.”
Taking the card the young officer blushed. “Yes, sir, I know who you are. I’ll get it over to you tonight when we return to port.”
Hating that kind of hero worship, Jack turned back to the dead body. He squatted down beside Stella and, not touching anything, looked it over. “Anything?”
“I would agree with Ruby. Given the layers of clothing and the condition of them, I’d say he was homeless, or in the best of scenarios, living at one of the shelters.”
Jack and Stella stood up. “Well, Ruby, let us know if you find anything interesting.”
“It’s a homicide, Jack. Even though there’s no blood evidence, given the length of time in the river, see this hole under the coat?” She squatted again and gently lifted the coat away from the chest. “Definitely a small caliber bullet hole. There may be more. I’ll get my report over to you.”
While snow swirled around them, Ruby stood and stripped off the examination gloves. Turning them inside out, she captured one glove inside the other, making a neat little package. She reached into her coat pockets and hurriedly donned fuzzy winter gloves.
“Well, let’s all get out of the cold. Talk to you later, Ruby.” Jack turned and headed for the warmth of their car.
Having left her assistants in the warm van, Ruby waved at them that it was time to load the DB.

* * * *

Climbing into their sedan, Garcia cranked up the heater.
“Ya gotta wait till the engine is warmed up, Stel’.” Jack reminded her as cold air blasted them both in the face.
“Damn it! I’m freezing!”
The radio crackled and they heard a call come in about a floater in the Hudson River and dispatch was asking for available detectives to respond.
Exchanging a surprised look with her partner, Stella reached for the microphone. Before she could speak two other detectives from their squad answered with an affirmative that they were on their way.
“Coincidence?” Stella asked, eyebrows disappearing into her hair.
“Don’t believe in ‘em.” Jack growled.
“Let’s stop for hot coffee…no scalding.” She replied as she fiddled with the heater knobs on the dashboard. Cool air then warm air came out of the vents. “Ah…finally.”
The radio’s static voice blurted out that there was another body found in the Hudson, mid-town and requesting the murder cops to proceed there at once.
“Holy shit! What the hell is going on?” Jack growled.   ©
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DON’T MISS UPCOMING BLOGS featuring INTERVIEWS with  best-selling AUTHORS! April’s author is Jodi Thomas. June’s author is mega-superstar, Dorothea Benton Frank.
To receive my posts sign up for my blog, blogs, blogger, writer, author, playwright, books, plays,fiction  On the home page, enter your email address.  I love comments!  Take the time to write one at the bottom of the post.   Thanks!


 

Author, Trisha Sugarek Featured on Fiction ‘5’ Friday

Tara Ford, Author**Fiction,Five,Fridays

Tara Ford, Author**Fiction,Five,Fridays

There’s a very clever blog out there offered by author, Tara Ford of the UK. To help support her fellow-authors, she has developed Fiction Five Fridays.

The page features excerpts from various author’s books. The rules are simple – 5 sentences from a page with the digit 5 in the number. Short and sweet and readers get a little taste of what their favorite (or a new one) author is writing.

One of Tara's books

One of Tara’s books

TODAY!  I have been chosen by Tara with my 5,5,5 contribution  (fifth day of the week, a five in the page no. and a five sentence excerpt from one of my novels).  WHAT FUN!!

http://taraford.weebly.com/fiction-five-friday

This has been a very busy month here at my Writer’s Blog.  Tomorrow begins my Interview with author, Dean Koontz.  Then announcing a free book give-away of Susan Elia Macneal’s new release, The Prime Minister’s Secret Agent, and of course more storytelling by yours truly.  Hope you’ll come back often to visit and enjoy my blog!

 

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DON’T MISS UPCOMING BLOGS featuring INTERVIEWS with  best-selling AUTHORS!

In addition to my twice weekly blog I also feature an interview with another author once a month. So come along with me; we shall sneak into these writers’ special places, be a fly on the wall and watch them create!    Dean Koontz dean2photo_9will be interviewed by me June 28th in a two part sensational visit with this suspense-thriller mega-star.

To receive my posts sign up for my blog, blogs, blogger, writer, author, playwright, books, plays,fiction  On the home page, enter your email address.  Thanks!

 

 

Take a Peek Into a Killer’s Mind…If You Dare!

When I wrote the chapters using the serial killer’s voice, I was slightly creeped out by the character that I had created.  But when my narrator, Daniel Dorse created the killer in the audio version of Book 4, The Angel of Murder, I was REALLY creeped out.  It seemed a perfect time to share an excerpt of the audio book with my readers, followers, and fellow writers.  Cover.Angel - Copy

If you want to hear more click here for another excerpt.

The World of Murder is available in paperback, e-books and Audio.
www.audible.com, www.amazon.com, and iTunes.com

Audio SAMPLE, click here  angel2

‘The World of Murder’ books are available in paperback, e-books and audio.
Narration by: Daniel Dorse, www.acx.com (the voice of Jack O’Roarke)

EXCERPT © from book:

O’Roarke and Garcia sat in the conference room where they had organized their murder board.  They were very uneasy about the ritualistic way in which Brittany James had been laid out and knew that this was just the beginning.  They hoped and prayed that they were wrong. more »

A Word About Censorship and Trust!

I’m a wise, old lady writer.  I’ve been knocked around a little by life, finally learned  from my mistakes, but all in all had a good life.  The biggest blessing in my years here has been my writing.  I read another profound piece by my hero, Charles ‘Hank’ Bukowski and it got me to thinking about who we should trust with our precious scribblings.  More about that later.

censorA tale of Censorship and Trust…..I recently have been trying to find just the right person to help me with my social networking, public relations and marketing my books.  A young woman answered my ad and she seemed like the ideal fit; she knew everything about social media and was working toward a career in public relations.   In the initial interview (via Skype) we were on a roll; she was ready to get to work and I offered her the job.  In the conversation we touched on women’s issues and that led me to telling her a little about one of my novels, Women Outside the Walls.  (She had not researched me or my writing before the interview).  The story is of women going to visit their men in prison…sometimes for years.  It’s a ‘gritty and truthful book’.  This young woman’s face shut down. Her next question was, “is there anything socially redeeming about your books?”  I almost swallowed my tongue to keep from saying a bad word.  Who did she think she was? more »

An Idea..A New Mystery Series! “The World of Murder”

Texas, comedy, stage play, Trisha Sugarek, murder

Production photos from “Cheatin'”

I can’t believe that it was just this past September that I wrote this blog about an idea becoming a one act play and NOW I’m writing my fifth book in the World of Murder mystery series.  The first four novels are available here and on amazon.com and now are audio books at audible.com  So I am thinking it is worth posting this again to let my fellow writers see how an idea can grow into something pretty damn amazing!!

If you missed the story here it is again:

Let’s see….I think it was 2005 and we were in rehearsals for “Cheatin'” in Port Aransas, Texas.  I was the director and we had pulled together a terrific cast.  The title pretty much tells you the story line but the fun part and what made it so funny was it was set in….where else?…… Texas and was filled with good ole’ boys and girls. It was the highest grossing play for that theatre in many a year and won Best Production and Best Set Design (thanks to Janis Johnson’s contribution).  I was very proud of the cast and crew!Texas, comedy, stage play, Trisha Sugarek, murder
more »

Excerpt from “Women Outside the Walls”

stage plays, prison, scripts for women, innocent men behind bars

~Prologue~

Reno, Nevada 1995

Scorching, desert sun soaked into the roof of the trailers, the aluminum so old and weathered that there was no reflection. Heat shimmered off the scarred mobile homes, the dirt, the abandoned tricycle with two wheels, the rusted out cars parked in the weeds. A young girl bolted out the front door of one of the older trailers and scrambled down the four wooden steps to the road.

“You get back here, ya little bitch!” a male voice bellowed from inside.

The girl sauntered down the street between other mobile homes just like hers. Her sandals flapped on the hot pavement. As far as the eye could see were rust streaked, silver trailers with faded trim, red dirt and black sticky pavement with not a shrub or a flower in sight. This was her life and she couldn’t wait to get out. The sun lit her red hair and it sparkled with fire. She wore pristine white short shorts and a pink sleeveless blouse tied off at the waist.

Even though Alma was only fifteen her body had matured and blossomed into that of a full grown beautiful woman. As she walked away she muttered to herself. It’ll be a cold day in you-know-where before I take orders from one of Mom’s boyfriends. I don’t take guff off nobody. Especially not from that lousy, drunken, pig of a step-father, or ‘uncle’ or whatever the heck Mom’s calling this one.Alma was concentrated on where she was going and what her future might hold when a deep voice called out.

“Hey! Lady Bug, where you off to in such a hurry?”
Alma’s head snapped up and when she recognized the voice calling from behind a screen door, a smile lit up her face. She slowed her angry march as she came up to the door of the neighbor-ing trailer, accenting the sway of her hips.
“Hey, yourself!” Alma said. “Just goin’ for a stroll; wanna come along?”
“Sure, lemme’ get my beer.” the man replied as he stepped back into his door and almost instantly reappeared. He joined Alma in the middle of the street and they began to walk. The man was in his early twenties, and what he lacked in height, he made up for in physique. He was unbelievably handsome, with shaggy, light brown hair that just touched the collar of his shirt. His cobalt blue eyes, with silver flecks, sparkled when he looked at her. As they walked Alma’s smile had slowly faded and she appeared deep in thought.
“Whas’ up, Bug? You’re awful serious today.”
“It’s nothin’.” Alma said.
“Come on, now, tell Charlie what’s buggin’ ya,” he replied.
“It’s just that creep my Mom’s got livin’ with us. What a loser!” Once Alma started the floodgates opened. Charlie was her best friend and always listened, really listened to her.
“He lays around all day, drinkin’ beer while she goes out to work. Then when she comes home he claims he was out lookin’ for a job. She has a few beers with him and then the fight begins. I don’t know why she keeps pickin’ these losers.”
“She moves one of ‘em in,” Alma continued, “pays the bills, and supports the bum.”
“In the end it’s always the same; they fight every night and finally he smacks her around and she kicks ‘im to the curb. I am never gonna’ have a boy friend like that! I’ve got plans, big plans, believe you me!”

Charlie stopped in the road and Alma walked a few steps before she realized he wasn’t beside her anymore. She stopped and looked around.
“What?” she asked.
“He’s not botherin’ you is he? Not touchin’ ya?”
“Ha! That’ll be the day! Just let ‘im try somethin’ like that! I’ll kill him!”
“You sure?” Charlie insisted.
“Whad’da you care?” she asked.
Charlie scowled at her. “I thought we were friends, Alma. Friends look out for friends.”
“Well, thanks, but you don’t need to worry. He wouldn’t dare try anything. Besides, he’s not my type.”
“Oh, really? And what would be your type be, at the wise ol’ age of fifteen?” Charlie laughed.
“Sixteen!” she corrected him. “Last week and you know it. Anyway, my type is none of your beeswax.”
“Okay, okay, don’t get your knickers….” Charlie cleared his throat realizing what he had been about to say. I’ve got no right to refer to a young girl’s knickers in any context. “Ah….I mean…don’t get all mad and everything. I was just wondering.”
He paused, thinking about her turning sixteen. “So…how does that old saying go? ‘Sweet sixteen and never been kissed.’ That you?”
Alma blushed at how close Charlie was to the truth. Why when he looks at me does he only see a child?
What I want is for him to realize that I’m a woman now and that he’s my type. How can I convince him of that when he’s with Cassandra? She wondered to herself. How can I compete with a tall, willowy blonde waitress who works a real job at the diner? I have to do something.

As they walked along, she smirked sideways at Charlie “You volunteering?” she asked.
“Me?! No way. In case you haven’t noticed, kiddo, you’re jail bait.”
It ‘s now or never. Alma decided. This is a perfect opportunity to get my first kiss and if I play it right, it could be Charlie.
“’Cause if you are, volunteering that is, I wouldn’t mind if it was you.” Alma buried her face in a fall of her long hair. She was dying of embarrassment. What if he turns me down? I’ll lock myself in my bedroom and never come out.

They had walked past the mobile home park and out into the desert. The sun was cradled in the saddle of the distant mountains and everything was turning a soft purplish pink. Charlie took her hand and led her off the road and under a mesquite tree. He playfully dusted off a large flat rock.

“Sit. Okay, here’s the deal, Alma. We’re friends. I hope you know I would never hurt you. So, I’m gonna tell you a few home truths. Don’t be in such a danged hurry to get your first kiss or… anything. You got lots of time. Be choosey. Don’t go with the first guy who asks you. And whatever you do, don’t sell yourself short or cheap.”
“Jeez, forget it! I don’t want your danged old kiss. I was just seein’ if you would.”
Charlie scowled down at her. “You know I’m with Cassandra for however long it lasts and I’m a one-woman-at-a-time kinda guy.”
Tears glistened in Alma’s eyes. “Are you sayin’ that I’m cheap?”
“God, no! I was just sayin’ slow down.”
“Oh.” Alma thought that over. She looked up at Charlie through her long, brown eyelashes.

“You never gave me a birthday present, Charlie.” Alma’s lightning change of subjects had Charlie scrambling to catch up with her.
“Well, I’ve been busy with work and all…”
Alma’s eyes flashed with mischief. “So, I know now what I want from you for my birthday.”
“And what’s that?” Charlie asked.
“My first kiss. From you…”
“Goddamnit! Alma, haven’t you been listening to a word I’ve been sayin’?”
Alma stood up. “Yes I have. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m now sixteen, have never been kissed and you owe me a birthday present.”
“Alma, don’t ask that of me. It’s not right. I’m twenty-three and you’re just a kid. I’m old enough to be your…” He fumbled for an example of a family member.
“Older cousin? Older ‘kissin’ cousin?” Alma grinned up into his face. “Come on, Charlie. I want my first to be from someone I lo…like… Who’s a friend and who has some experience. You do have experience, don’cha?”
“Knock it off, Bug. A’course I got experience. But the problem is, you don’t. I would feel like a perv.”
Alma decided she had to take matters into her own hands. Before Charlie knew what she was about to do, she grabbed his shirt front and mashed her body against his. Wrapping her arms around his neck she rose up on her tip toes and put her lips against his, not certain what to do next. His lips were so soft and warm she thought her bones would melt. There was an instant when the world stood still for both of them. Then Charlie’s arm encircled Alma’s waist and his other hand cradled the back of her head. He broke away an inch and looked into her eyes. They had darkened from their usual coppery hue to a rich brandy color.

I am so going to regret this, Charlie thought. This is exactly what I have been trying to stay away from…she’s just a kid, for Chrissakes. Groaning, he bent down and kissed her mouth softly. Alma made a purring sound in the back of her throat. Charlie lightly licked her bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. Her lips opened on a sigh. Need flooded Alma’s body. A growl emitted from Charlie’s chest.My God, Charlie thought, this is so wrong. Why does this feel like this is my first kiss? My heart feels too big for my chest and other parts are swiftly getting out of control. What the hell…? Space…lots of space between me and this young goddess, is what I need. He kissed her gently once more and, taking her firmly by her arms, set her away from him.
“There ya go, Bug, your first kiss.” He laughed to cover the storm of emotions that were bubbling up inside him. What was going on here? This is just a kid, a girl, never in a million years is she right for me. He laughed again.
Alma flinched at Charlie’s laugh. My first kiss ever and it’s more exciting than anything I’ve ever fantasized about and he stands here laughing? I won’t cry, at least not in front of him.
“Yep! And not half bad for an old guy,” she retorted. “Thanks, Charlie.”
Alma whirled around and ran down the road as if she was being chased by devils. Tears streamed down her face as she sobbed out her hurt. I’m in love for the first time and he laughs?
“Hey, Alma, wait a sec,” Charlie yelled after her. “What the hell just happened?” he muttered to himself.
Alma ran all the way back to her trailer, pounded up the steps and through the front door. As she stumbled down the hallway a drunken voice followed her.
“Hey, baby, get your Daddy a beer, would ya?”
“Fuck off!” Alma yelled back as she slammed her bedroom door and threw herself onto her bed in a torrent of tears.

* * * * *

A week later Alma still felt humiliated about ‘the kiss’. She made certain that she avoided Charlie and never went outside when he was home from work. It was seven o’clock in the evening and Charlie was working the night shift at the plant. Alma peeked out the front curtains. Chances are pretty good that I won’t run into him and if I don’t get out of the house, Alma thought to herself, I’ll surely go crazy. It’s probably safe enough to walk down to the laundry room even though it is across the street from Cassandra and Charlie’s trailer.

She stripped the sheets off her bed and gathered up the dirty clothes lying around and tossed them into a basket. Her mother’s loser boyfriend sprawled in a lounger, snoring in front of the television. Alma went to the tiny kitchen and took down the jar of quarters from the cabinet and stuffed a handful into her pocket. She walked through the living room and out the front door. The desert sun was setting and the temperature had dropped so it was a pleasant walk in spite of the heavy load of dirty clothes. Alma opened the door to the laundry room and backed through it with the large basket held tightly in her arms. As she turned around she realized that the room was not empty. Big as life, there was Cassandra cramming clothes into a machine. Isn’t this just great? Alma thought, can’t I catch a break, just once?
“Hi.” Alma said.
“Hi.” Cassandra said, not looking at Alma.
“How’re things?” Alma asked. Maybe she’d say something about Charlie.
Cassandra turned around and Alma saw that her eyes were puffy, her nose was red, and her skin was all blotchy.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Alma asked.
“Nothin’!” Cassandra snapped. “Mind your own business.”
“Okay, sor-rey. I was just askin’. You don’t have to bite my head off.”
Alma began loading clothes into two machines and angrily fed quarters into the slots.
Cassandra looked over. “Look, kid, I’m sorry, okay? It’s just something you wouldn’t understand.” Cassandra sniffled.
“Guy trouble, huh? You and Charlie have a fight or somethin’?” Alma asked, jealousy smearing her words.
Cassandra collapsed on a chair and began to cry. “He’s gone,” she whispered.
“What?” Alma cried.
“He left me. Said he won’t be back. I thought…” She began to cry again. “…I thought we had somethin’.”
“What do you mean, ‘gone’?” Alma’s voice was too loud but she couldn’t seem to help it.
“What don’t ya understand about the word ‘gone’, kid? Adios, left, vamoose, vanished. Get it?” Cassandra cried harder. “He told me he couldn’t hang around anymore. Told me it was great while it lasted. Basically, the bastard kissed me off!” Cassandra replied.
Alma stared at Cassandra for a few seconds, set her basket down carefully on top of the washing machine, turned, and walked out the door. She walked down the road, in a daze.

Charlie was gone? Without telling me he was going? Why? We’re friends. How could he do this and not tell me? How could he leave and not take me with him? She stumbled back to the trailer and up the stairs to the front door. As she entered the living room her mother’s boyfriend was awake and slugging down another beer. With a loud belch, he gazed up at Alma.
“Hey, kid. There’s a letter for you. I think I put it here somewhere.” He patted his dirty wife beater undershirt as if the letter was lurking somewhere between his hairy chest and the large stomach that hung over his belt buckle. He looked around and then laughed.
“Oh, yeah, here it is. Guess I was usin’ it for a coaster last night.” He sheepishly lifted his beer can off an envelope and wiped it against his T-shirt where the can had left a ring of water. “Opps, sorry ‘bout that.”
“Gemme that!” Alma snatched the envelope out of his hand.
“Jesus, you don’t have to get so pissy,” he said.
Alma rushed down the hall to her bedroom. The letter had to be from Charlie. No one wrote to her. She slammed her door shut, locked it and crawled onto her bed. The envelope had only her name across the front; no return name or address and no stamp. She carefully tore the end off and unfolded the single sheet. She quickly read the signature at the bottom. She smiled. It was from Charlie! He hadn’t forgotten about me entirely.

‘Ladybug,

I’ll be gone when you read this. Gotta go, kid. Your first kiss was more than I bargained for and it would be a big mistake for me to hang around.’
Tears filling her eyes, Alma read on.

‘I’m not comin’ back and it would be best if you forgot about me. I’m sure gonna try to forget about you and that kiss.
Take care of yourself and remember what I said, about bein’ choosey.

Your friend, always, Charlie

Alma read it again and then a third time. She didn’t know whether to cry or laugh. The kiss meant as much to Charlie as it had to me. He loves me. But, he’s gone. It doesn’t make any sense. Why did he leave? It’s because I’m a kid and he’s older. But, doesn’t he know that I don’t care about that? Sobs erupted and tears streamed down her face. He was gone and her heart was broken.