i surrender to what has been what was and what will be, looking around i see the clock on the wall ticking away seconds turning into minutes, developing hours times turn table is passing me by, as i stand in a state of numness, i hear sounds causing me to grasp my head, letting me move in circles as the chimes of the clock grow louder, balling me up in knots, foot steps fade away, yesterdays have no memories tommorrows are full of tears, today i have no thoughts, as the days weeks and months have no name, icnited by pain dimmed in a faded light domanted visions of hope are shredded by denied agony unleashed in a sytem with motions gone wild flared by foolish beliefs, crushed in thoughts dreams teared down i am a echo that grows louder a stumbling block only to rebuild again, as i start over from tears into the darkness of rain
Yolanda Carter dreams of owning her own bakery. Employed at a cat shelter, she stumbles across a scheme that threatens to close it down. Will her delicious brownies save them?
Book eight in my Belinda Lawrence Classic Mysteries. Mysteries confront amateur sleuths, Belinda Lawrence and Hazel Whitby in the Somerset village of Milford.
Among the eccentrics is the shadowy Madam Malefic.
