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The Editorial
The EditorialThe gun went off. The light left my best friend’s beautiful dark eyes. His little body slumped to the ground three feet away, blood pooling around him. I struggled, I tried to scream, but no sound came out. David Bryce raised his head. “Help me.” I woke, my face in the pillow, heart pounding. The bed lay empty in the pale dawn light. I felt a pang of loneliness, my eyes filling with tears. A firm knock at the door. I took a deep breath, let it out. “Yes?” “Your tea and wash-water, mum.” “Thank you, just leave it on the table.” My day footman Honor came in, set the tray on my tea table, and left, without once glancing my direction. I pulled the covers over my head. I didn’t want to think of my dream. Did it mean David was dead? Some said the dead sent messages to the
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