Boxes For Beds

Maryann Miller

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January 1936

“Hush little baby, don't you cry … ” The plaintive melody whispered in the otherwise resounding silence.

One small candle flickered atop the dust-¬encrusted chest of drawers, the feeble light unable to dispel the gloom born of the murky darkness. The yellow flame wafted in a sudden draft, casting macabre patterns on a precarious stack of old boxes supported by an intricate network of cobwebs.

 

The pale light briefly touched a figure hunched over an open trunk.

 

The figure loomed more like a shadow than a real person and reached out a hand to lightly trace the features of the tiny bundle nestled within the trunk's musty interior.

 

“Would you listen to me? Singing to a doll-baby just like you was real.”

 

Wide, unblinking eyes stared back.

 

“Sometimes I wish … but no. It's better this way. If you was was real, then I'd have to tell you to hush for sure. The Man don't let me play with no real babies. Says I might hurt 'em. But he don't know. I can be real gentle. Ain't my fault those others broke. You ain't gonna do that are you?”

 

Silence.

Boxes For Beds Description:

The 1960s were a time of peace and love in California, but not so in Hot Springs Arkansas where the mob still ruled. In nearby Pine Hollow, babies are being kidnapped, and the local sheriff has to put this case to bed before the bosses come down from Chicago for a big meeting.

 
Sheriff Bates thinks it’s a good move to arrest Leslie Richards, the new woman in town. There’s only thin circumstantial evidence against her, but it’s better for it to be a stranger and not one of their own.

 
Leslie left New York with her daughter, Mandy, hoping to escape from the secrets of her past and the ruins of a relationship, only to discover that there is little peace for her in Pine Hollow, Arkansas.

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1 Comment

  1. Maryann Miller

    Thanks for the great feature for my book.

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