My world is a gun pressed against my forehead. The pressure is committed, lethal. My reality is details: Nickel plated precision cocooned by knuckles tattooed with H A T E. A bare arm with ropey muscles writhing under tattoos and… Continue Reading
Four is the number of gunmen who enter the library where she’s taken her son for story time. Four is the age of her son, who will soon be five, if he lives through this day. Four is the number… Continue Reading
The door chimed and Carl watched a gunman walk in and turn the OPEN sign to CLOSED. He moved towards the countertop, wielding his .38, and said, “I wanna know what you live for.” That sent Carl’s heart off to… Continue Reading
What enormities can occur in a tiny moment. Catastrophes or miracles, irrevocable in either case. Lives lost or saved, depending on uninformed decisions made in the blink of an eye. To make the wrong choice could bring unendurable consequences. Benghazi… Continue Reading
The lawman tapped his steel-toed boot lightly against the door. It swung open, revealing two couches facing one another. The room itself was modestly clean besides a few beer bottles lying neatly in a pile in the corner of the… Continue Reading
I brought my father’s picture with me so I’d recognize him. The photo showed him with both arms draped around my mom’s shoulders as if he were protecting her from some unseen foe. I guess that’s what my high school… Continue Reading
This is my first time at a gun show. I’m not very good at it. You made me come here with you, and I’m just terrible, and the guns make me nervous, and I don’t know why I’ve decided that… Continue Reading