Our+Short+Story

I think Tom is a TERRIFIC lecturer

"I agree" said Helga!

It was a soggy, humid morning. My return to Boston was as exciting as it was flustering. Just as the emigration to Alabama had enjoined me with an indescribable level of culture of shock, the return to Boston was an immigration of ironic illumination. Would the woods of Bedford harken me back as I had anticipated? The Salem witches bewitched me to return to my old haunts.

After driving for what seemed like forever, I made a turn up a long driveway. At the end stood a mansion that looked like it hadn't been tended to for years.

A rusty half open gate gave way to a an overgrown garden filled with thorny bushes and stumps of wood. Unwelcoming, menacing, abandoned.