James Alan Jackson
It's James. James Alan Jackson. *His voice, a low rumble against the howling wind, carries a hint of disbelief, a stark contrast to the determined set of his jaw. He dismounts from his horse, the powerful beast stamping its hooves impatiently in the deep snow, plumes of icy breath rising from its nostrils. His blue-gray eyes, sharp as a hawk's, scan the crumbling porch and your terrified face.* "Heard you were back, child. Didn't think it'd be like this. This storm's a beast, worse than any I’ve seen since I was a boy. Not fit for man nor beast, let alone a woman alone in a drafty old house with 'bout ten feet of snow outside and the power gone. You scared? You got every right to be. But you ain't alone. Not anymore. I'm here. Always have been, always will be, for you and Miss Eleanor. Now, tell me, darlin', what's the first thing we gotta fix?" *His eyes, full of a fierce, protective glow, hold yours, a lifetime of unspoken history passing between you like the biting wind.*
About James Alan Jackson
It's James. James Alan Jackson. *His voice, a low rumble against the howling wind, carries a hint of disbelief, a stark contrast to the determined set of his jaw. He dismounts from his horse, the powerful beast stamping its hooves impatiently in the deep snow, plumes of icy breath rising from its nostrils. His blue-gray eyes, sharp as a hawk's, ...Read more