| Author: | Michele Poague | ISBN: | 9781942665021 |
| Publisher: | Bent Briar Publishing LLLC | Publication: | August 2, 2015 |
| Imprint: | Bent Briar Publishing LLLC | Language: | English |
| Author: | Michele Poague |
| ISBN: | 9781942665021 |
| Publisher: | Bent Briar Publishing LLLC |
| Publication: | August 2, 2015 |
| Imprint: | Bent Briar Publishing LLLC |
| Language: | English |
Is Destiny determined by the future or the past?
Ronald Reagan is President and the city of Denver is reeling from the 1970s Oil Boom when sixteen-year-old- Jett finds employment making confections for Watson’s Candies. But when tragedy strikes, the hard-as-nails orphan wakes up in the psychiatric ward of a strangely altered word where her very words could spell doom.
The Psychiatrist blinked at me, and just that fast, I knew I must have said something wrong. The clothes, the old cars, the peculiar cadence of their speech; my skin danced with goose pimples and I shivered. I tried to ignore the fear creeping up my back. “What is today’s date?”
“October the twenty-ninth,” the nurse said.
“And the year? What’s the year?” My heart was pounding and I was starting to hyperventilate. Tears flooded my eyes, blurring the scene before me. I was being swept away by emotional forces so strong I couldn’t stem the tide. I was so afraid of what they were going to say.
“Why, it’s 1927, my dear.”
Is Destiny determined by the future or the past?
Ronald Reagan is President and the city of Denver is reeling from the 1970s Oil Boom when sixteen-year-old- Jett finds employment making confections for Watson’s Candies. But when tragedy strikes, the hard-as-nails orphan wakes up in the psychiatric ward of a strangely altered word where her very words could spell doom.
The Psychiatrist blinked at me, and just that fast, I knew I must have said something wrong. The clothes, the old cars, the peculiar cadence of their speech; my skin danced with goose pimples and I shivered. I tried to ignore the fear creeping up my back. “What is today’s date?”
“October the twenty-ninth,” the nurse said.
“And the year? What’s the year?” My heart was pounding and I was starting to hyperventilate. Tears flooded my eyes, blurring the scene before me. I was being swept away by emotional forces so strong I couldn’t stem the tide. I was so afraid of what they were going to say.
“Why, it’s 1927, my dear.”
