Cold off the river. Not winter, not yet. Close enough, though. The field had been chewed up, grass flattened where the trucks turned, green gone dark like a bruise. Frost clung only where nothing had touched it, a neat grid… Continue Reading
“The helplessness I felt when the bombs exploded, and mustard gas crept like ground fog into our trenches is hard to describe,” my Great-Uncle Leo said as we painted his barn red. After I dropped out of college, I became… Continue Reading
It’s like a jungle in the clouds and there’s this fog — like rain, except it’s not raining. Everything is wet and tangled, and the angles of vision are slightly distorted. Walking point, I can hear sounds that come from… Continue Reading
Grace knew it was inevitable. The second her husband returned home from his deployment, his eyes tired and voice dull, it was clear it was only a matter of time. Joshua spoke then, but his words scarcely reached her. She… Continue Reading