"Lighthouse" by Simeon Wilkins
I'm a New Englander. I love four distinct seasons. I love the smell of the ocean, and I love the abundance of history that exists alongside the modern marvels of cities like Boston and Providence.
I wrote quite a few short stories and poems in college. Once out of the academic shackles, I found that I could actually make a living doing design work in and out of the comic book field. But there was always a voice in my head (a zombie I guess) who wanted to get back to prose.
Dead Ends exists...for me anyway. I've always said that if you imagine the little details, everything else writes itself.
Does the old terrier in Mrs. Polchik's front yard growl at the mailman every day? Is Pastor Swayne really going birdwatching on Friday afternoons? Is the breezeway door of this old farmhouse stuck shut?
