Christmas ball

Some seasonal words from one of our award winning Imzadi Publishing authors, Michael Stephen Daigle.

Michael Stephen Daigle

The rain-smeared lights dripped along the dark glass, the reds and greens, blues and yellows running, Annie thought, like angels’ tears; beyond, in the street a few cars huffed at the stop light and then burst away, swallowed by the darkness.

Annie shook her head and shifted the small Christmas tree to the center of the window display and settled the wrapped boxes at the base. Tomorrow the shelter families would come for their annual party.

It always broke her heart to see the little ones. They would smile when they pulled off the wrapping to find a small bear or doll, a little train set, but the sadness would never really leave their eyes, she knew.

They would stroke the arms of their new coat, wiggle their fingers in new gloves and hold out their legs stiffly to admire a new pair of boots.

But Annie knew they would…

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Imzadi Publishing is a small publishing company that concentrates on giving new authors a voice.
This entry was posted in A Game Called Dead, Authors, Michael Stephen Daigle, Mystery, News!, Swamps of Jersey, The Weight of Living and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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