*by Spookey247 & MaybeAmanda* * "I continue on, back to where I started, back toward my grave. Cresting a small rise, I stop in my tracks. * *Scully is standing there.* * I lean against the trunk of an oak and lay my face against the rough bark.* * I wonder if she came here while I was cold in the ground. I wonder if she stood where she's standing now, her feet planted six feet over my head, clutching a tissue to her nose and stroking her belly the way she's stroking it now. Mourning her losses and counting her blessings. * *I wonder if she thought it was a fair trade." * *Click image to read* * Stories* * Home*