The Whisper

The words "Who are you?" drifted through my ears. 

"Who's there?" I shouted back. 

Nothing.

Could it have been my imagination, or are they back?

Cool,” said Jack. Florence tucked Jack’s blanket tighter around him. “There, soldier. Warmer now?

Every moment is like a wheel with a hundred spokes in it. We ride always at the hub of the wheel and go forward as it turns. We ignore the array of other moments constantly turning around us. We are surrounded by doorways; we never open them.

Written By Patricia A. McKillip

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