#thecandyman

It amazes me the skill and years of training that is required to really understand how make the best and amazing classic candies and especially the hard candies that people have loved for more than one

The last of the smoke trailed from Ezekial’s pursed lips as he finished his tale, and for a long time I remained motionless, unsure whether the dark recounting of Job’s experiences was truly over. But

I see a dark figure on the other side. I hear a voice, too, soft and raspy and accented. European, I think, maybe German? It’s just a little less dark outside than it is in here. His form is just barely

If I thought school would be a refuge, that foolish idea was gone as soon as I got there. Things didn’t start out too badly, of course. The 8th graders hadn’t shown up yet, probably trying to get a few

The front door slamming was what tipped me off that this wasn’t just another dream. The laugh...oh god, that laugh. It starts out almost impossibly quiet, this strange vibration just barely at the lowest

I remember that morning, waking up to the sound of nothing. I knew they had gone out to get my father’s job back, but even so I had a distinct feeling of unease, like icy fingers digging their way inside

The sound of eighteen wheels on cracked asphalt served as my alarm clock the next morning. As I rolled over and unsuccessfully smushed the pillow over my head to block the noise, my father’s words came

“So, kid, how much do you know about your hometown?” Ezekial asked once we’d sat down and made ourselves comfortable. “Well, I know it was originally used to house logging crews way back when, before the

“Rum and coke, rocks on the side,” I said, holding a couple twenties up where the bartender could see them, “Keep the change.” The bartender hesitated, giving me a strange look before snatching them out