A short ghost story about a boy who’s ancestor was a murderer and a man he kills remains as a ghost and haunts a swamp nearby where the boy lives. Please read and comment on what you think of it.

Music in any weather conditions.

Sometimes it’s the smaller things we focus on that become biggest in our eyes and in our hearts.

Why do they say it, but dont mean it?

Just the voices in my head speaking to you and me.

Sad music playing for my soul.

I love to play my harmonica and look over my huge yard. Very cozy for an acoustical piece and of course the harp.

Ties of love cannot be broken, regardless of what they struggle through. For wears and tears of love are all but just external; true bonds of love shall not, and cannot break.