My friend Matty believed he could fly. "I have the cape and everything," he told me one afternoon. We were playing knights and dragons in his backyard when he pointed to the roof.
I was just a kid when Dad bought the Four Pines Motel. He called it a "diamond in the rough," but I couldn't see much promise in the shabby building with the mint green paint peeling off the siding
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I had to have it.
It waited for me in the night as I summoned courage.
Soon, it would be my trophy.
The scarecrow stood, a stark silhouette against the light from a rear window
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