When I was young my brother left for the war. He died several months after in action. He was a hero by all standards. Incredibly jealous was I, but I was born wrong and would forever be denied. A year… Continue Reading
I’ve never shot a gun, and suddenly, Quinton is pressing the grip of a long-nosed revolver into my palm. I don’t anticipate its weight. The chilly steel. We’re cousins, but I’m new to life in Parched River. I’m used to… Continue Reading
I was thirteen when Daryl Harrison fell off our grain bin. Zach brought me along once to go visit him in the hospital. I remember clenching onto the plastic railing of the footboard of his bed. It all happened on… Continue Reading
Arthur’s mouth felt like he bit into a jalapeno when his phone buzzed. It was his dentist. “That bastard better not be trying to cancel my appointment,” he muttered. The light turned green, the car in back of him beeped,… Continue Reading
How could anyone sleep through that? He sounded like an asthmatic chainsaw. The sound wasn’t the worst of it, though. It was those gaps, when the sound ceased, where she hoped that maybe, just maybe he’d stopped — snoring, breathing.… Continue Reading
My sister was thirteen when she died. All crooked and soft white like a dogwood flower floating on the water. I heard my mother sobbing on the phone that she had broken her neck nearly to a ninety-degree angle, a… Continue Reading
A nurse unplugs me from something. Aggie bites her lower lip. Our son and daughter and their spouses look ready to cry. Even my oh-so-world-weary teenaged grandson swallows hard. If I could, I’d whisper, “Rosebud.” Anything to lighten things up.… Continue Reading
Grandma’s cell phone was full of dead people when I found it. I suppose that’s the way things work out over time, though. I’ve got one in my phone now too, although it wasn’t always like that. It started two… Continue Reading
I’d like to begin by saying Johnson’s a liar. Johnson’s a goddamn liar if I’ve ever known one, but I’ll be shot and hanged ’n banged if he ain’t real entertaining about it. He’s a funny guy, Johnson. Real funny.… Continue Reading
You’ve come here to see— To see. To see her. That’s right. Ethel. Your wife of sixty-six years. You remember her: hair that was always in rollers, an apron knotted around her waist even though she stopped baking once she… Continue Reading