Nathan Webster

A typical day in Willow, pouring rain. It always rains in time like this. A man told me that heaven was crying that day. Maybe so. But heaven's tears were cold. So many stories begin with a dead man, it's become a cliche. A dark alley, a smoking gun and a thousand lingering memories remain to haunt us. But this time, there was no smoking gun, no dark alley, only those unanswered questions. It might have frightened the average kid but not me. I live...