A group from St. Christopher’s School for Boys made this same pilgrimage to the Metropolitan Museum of Art every spring, marching down along Central Park in militaristic formation in their crested navy sport coats. The trip was overseen that year… Continue Reading
When the Great War began in 1914, it sounded temporary, almost manageable. Austria-Hungary declared war on Serbia, alliances snapped into place, and Europe lurched toward catastrophe. For three years, America watched from across the Atlantic, selling supplies and convincing itself… Continue Reading
I lined up the shot by habit more than hope. The sheriff’s face wavered in the heat, not heroic or villainous — just tired, creased by years of deciding who mattered and who didn’t. I squeezed the trigger. Click. The… Continue Reading
The wounded Lanc labours along the breathless sky, flames raging on the portside wing. Captain David Robertson, face flame orange, tugs on the control column to hold her steady; his crew evacuates over enemy territory. His flight engineer, the last… Continue Reading
In 1974, when I was six and my brother, Alex, ten, we lived in a house on the edge of town; the land behind us belonging to a state park, which ran along the Sageeyah River for about a mile… Continue Reading
A late June crescent moon hung in the sky like a sickle as I strolled along North Ogden examining the pointed two-story homes that lined both sides of the street. Each one the same except for color, shrubbery, or an… Continue Reading
“My Lady,” said the Duke of Baria, his silver fork speared with venison poised in the air before his mouth, “I am informed that you attended the Aldermen’s Ball last week without me.” The Duchess did not look up from… Continue Reading
We had chosen our baseball teams in the alley behind our houses like always and started to walk down the block to the special lot, the one we still called our prairie; the only open space left in our neighborhood… Continue Reading
Every time my grandpa, my mother’s father, visited us he always brought a crate of fruits or vegetables, whatever he just harvested. I remember I was in second grade when he came by with the crate and asked how I… Continue Reading
How do you kill a vampire? It was a question Grigore Nicolau first asked when he was 4 years old. He was hardly unique. Many of the boys he knew growing up in his hometown wondered the same. There was… Continue Reading