“OH FOR GOD’S SAKE!”
Blake McIntyre looked at the microwave clock. 2 a.m. He threw open his apartment door and made his way across the hall to hopefully halt the drone that was now filling his ears. He wasn’t amused.
"Moonlight streamed through the open slits of the curtains, dimly illuminating the room. He was there…his gentle hand caressed my shoulder. I couldn’t see him, but the essence of his energy filled my senses.
“Johnny! Goddamn it! Get down!” Richard yelled from his belly, the brush barely hiding him and the other four men on this clusterfuck of a mission. Just as the sound of gunfire erupted, Johnny hit the ground, not even a twitch from his body as bullets whizzed by like a thousand angry, deadly bees.
My head fills with the sound of metal crunching into metal, the sensation of my body flinging forward then back, a scream that I'm not sure emerges from my throat. "Autumn, can you hear me?" My mother's voice filters through the noise.
In ten days, Thanksgiving 2016 would be a wrap. For one metro Atlanta family, this meant two of three sisters had less than a day to decide whether or not to be at their parent's table for the feast. The oldest sister, Glenda, would be there, showcasing her new love interest.