Welcome to North of Here...
There's a place in the north you may have heard of. You may have dreamed of it or maybe even visited... It's a place North of Here, where love stories are wrapped around a barfights, and winter-smoke dawns foot-light struggles within dreams. It's a place where the only certainty is you may not ever see tomorrow again.
Welcome to places North of Here...
One road leads through Factoryville. And around here it's the road less traveled. You've spent most of your life here among the low, rounded hills of western New Hampshire. You've known seasons, and little else. You've passed out in snowbanks, played cards with shady types, sobered up by the dawn light down by the river, begging for redemption, forgiveness, anything. You opened up that 442 on the River Road, racing against the phantoms your father once beat. You rolled that car but walked away without even a scratch. You forgot her name but you still remember the way she laughed, the way she felt, the way she tasted on the summer nights. You said goodbye and never saw her again. You left that town of New Hampshire to become who you are, and when you got back it wasn't the same. You could see beneath the town now, and it was not the picaresque place of your youth but something fiery, destructive, deceptive, political, unforgiving. And they don't want you here, but she does. And tonight you'll get out, but not without a fight.
Welcome to North of Here...
Welcome to places North of Here...
One road leads through Factoryville. And around here it's the road less traveled. You've spent most of your life here among the low, rounded hills of western New Hampshire. You've known seasons, and little else. You've passed out in snowbanks, played cards with shady types, sobered up by the dawn light down by the river, begging for redemption, forgiveness, anything. You opened up that 442 on the River Road, racing against the phantoms your father once beat. You rolled that car but walked away without even a scratch. You forgot her name but you still remember the way she laughed, the way she felt, the way she tasted on the summer nights. You said goodbye and never saw her again. You left that town of New Hampshire to become who you are, and when you got back it wasn't the same. You could see beneath the town now, and it was not the picaresque place of your youth but something fiery, destructive, deceptive, political, unforgiving. And they don't want you here, but she does. And tonight you'll get out, but not without a fight.
Welcome to North of Here...
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Want to know more about Thomas A. Morgan? Check out his other blog for his outstanding California writing project, Dryline Rhapsody. Got a comment? Drop me a line at northofherenovel@gmail.com.
posted by Thomas A. Morgan, the Last Dragstrip Hero at
5:04 PM
