“Does it always rain this much around here?” Jack whined. “Not all the time,” the old-timer said from his rocking chair under the porch. “Usually just when Yankees come to visit. Don’t think God likes Yankees.” “Well, I don’t like… Continue Reading
I found a sort of skull in the garden. You did? Let me see. I didn’t bring it inside. It’s a skull. Well, what kind of animal is it from? I don’t know. Do I look like a zoologist? All… Continue Reading
It was a cold morning in the old grey city. End of March, with dirty snowbanks on the streets and the sun hiding out somewhere behind the clouds. The three of us took a large black taxi to the hotel… Continue Reading
Terrified, Bodie summons me to his cavernous office. “They want me out,” he says, scrutinizing all those dazzling backstabbers and hangers-on through thick glass panes. “Calm down,” I say. “Calm down? Are you shitting me? You hear what I’m saying?”… Continue Reading
The same year rationing finally came to an end in England, Peter spent a small fortune on a big American refrigerator. While his neighbours coveted television sets, he yearned for food that wasn’t as bland and grey as London on… Continue Reading
Grampa Don hated houseflies. To hear him talk you’d think there weren’t no flies in Chicago, but we visited once and there were flies a’plenty, I assure you. But when Grampa stayed with us he was forever complaining about flies… Continue Reading
There was uncertainty in the land, as the great empires of Asia and Europe sought to win the allegiance of a bachelor monarch. Not that the King took any notice. Henri-Luc the Third, the Most Christian Majesty of France, was… Continue Reading
Hikaru squats on his ankles in the mouth of the furnace. Moisture steams from his body. Sweat distills into salt stains on his shirt. A square of fabric is tied around his head and tucked into a roll in lieu… Continue Reading
The tree was old, but not as old as the soldier lying at its roots. When the Armies of the Cumberland and Tennessee slaughtered each other in the forest by the river, the tree was only a sky-blue berry. Trampled… Continue Reading
The mournful wailing froze Conn O’Neill’s blood, as it always did. People said the sound the stuka dive-bombers made came from sirens the Germans fitted to their planes. Well, maybe. But Conn, fighting for Allied forces in northern France, knew… Continue Reading