
The Day Death was Young
Christine Stone
Reader - let me take you to the day that death - that sinister, black, ugly thing became real to the child that was me.
My mother, as mothers can do, had waved me off for another happy, carefree day with my cousins. Packing our lunch and giving the usual caution - 'keep away from the river now... mind my words... keep away from that river,' she so ushered us on our way. ... (continues)


