by Kelly Babcock
It was on the bus heading home after work on a Friday evening that it happened. Epiphany was the word he'd heard others use. He thought it sounded inadequate.
It hadn't started out well. He had left work at four-thirty, as he always did. Slopping through the damp chill of a sunless November day to the bus stop, he saw leaves scattered on the ground, saw them because he could not raise his head, could not look in the eyes the denizens of this chilly town.
One cluster of leaves had hidden a pothole, full of cold water, two inches deeper than the top of ...
- by Kelly Babcock
The cottage is still, peaceful and quiet. This won't last, the hour hand is still to the right of the six and the slant of the dappled sunlight coming in through the east windows creates one of those scenes that once again makes you wish you could paint or that you had figured out how to use that damned ...
-by Jake Doherty
Within minutes of the OPP arrival on a gloriously bright December day, the coroner pronounced that Captain Jonas Adams and his friend has been dead for five or six weeks and that death for one was probably caused by a blow to the head with a blunt weapon and gun shot to the chest of the other. Autopsies would be needed to confirm the initial findings. As soon as the bodies were tagged and bagged and taken out to the road on a snowmobile sled, everyone began to relax with coffee and trail bars. And lots of hugs among the birding groups, some in tears.
Until Sherry Wilkie broke away from her fellow birders to take in the strange beauty and quietness of Windfield Basin, and the irony of death in a safe harbor. She pushed a small drift of snow on some beach rocks to secure better footing, and looked down. A small tab of black material took her attention. Just one big hole in it, no, no, maybe more she thought and pulled it out.
"YO..." she cried, but then remembered the signal. "HELP, HELP. I've found something." Nellie Tannahill and Corporal Erskine were quickly at her side.
"Oh my gosh," said Nellie. "It's a,...a"
-by Jake Doherty
No one slept easily that night, scrunched together with no blankets and only packsacks under their heads. Three of the four cell phones brought by the birders were now dead.
As dawn began to break about 7 am, Nellie recognized where the boat had been found – a small safe harbor just north of the Cabot Head Light, marked on most navigation maps for small craft caught in strong easterly winds across Georgian Bay. Buoys marked the entrance but the channel, though narrow, was passable. Barely.
She found the two officers looking out a window facing the water.