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“…Jackson muttered to me, ‘Bedlam.’ I was beginning to understand his compulsion to solve puzzles. Every few feet, a new mystery taunted me. An eighteen wheeler lay atop a house. On my right, someone had painstakingly nailed a wedding dress and veil to a front door. A dingy sleeve waved in the wind. To my left, a dead man and young boy were positioned in a front yard, as if they’d been making snow angels in the ash right up to the end. On the side of a dumpster, someone had spray-painted: Eye of a hurricane, listen to yourself churn…Whatever.” — Kresley Cole
…Jackson muttered to me, ‘Bedlam.’
I was beginning to understand his compulsion to solve puzzles. Every few feet, a new mystery taunted me.
An eighteen wheeler lay atop a house. On my right, someone had painstakingly nailed a wedding dress and veil to a front door. A dingy sleeve waved in the wind.
To my left, a dead man and young boy were positioned in a front yard, as if they’d been making snow angels in the ash right up to the end.
On the side of a dumpster, someone had spray-painted: Eye of a hurricane, listen to yourself churn…Whatever.