Walton Merritt

Fate… Lydia Late May, and summer heat had settled in for the past fortnight. Lydia boarded the

Helen adored her son and was incredibly proud of him. Sometimes she’d catch herself marvelling at the

The Enigmatic Painting Emily sat in the back seat of the car, gazing out the window. Her spirits were

Three Letters with No Return Address The air was still—no wind, no rustling leaves, no birdsong—as if

The Spiteful Old Woman Emma stepped out of the taxi and waited as little Amelia struggled free from the backseat.

“Following in His Footsteps” “Mick, what’s wrong with you? Look at this—English, a

— Mrs. Thompson, there was a strange man bothering your Emily on the playground. — Bothering?

She Came Back —Son… —Sorry, but I’m not your son. Don’t call me that. My name is Andrew. —Andrew…

“Man Up, Won’t You?” “It’s those neighbours again, partying at three in the morning!

“Mum, calm down, will you? Nathan said he loves me. We’re getting married,” Lily said, unusually composed.