Rusted Nails and Lost Memories
Without reading the other installments of the Man In Black, this may not make much sense. As always, there is much fact buried within the fiction. Which is which? I’m not always so sure… * It was one hell of a day for the kid. It was October the 10th, the day of his eighth birthday. He was standing on a milk crate, reaching for a cardboard box on the second shelf just beyond his grasp. He did not notice the man standing behind him with a big stick of stovewood in his hand. As the kid’s...