Harry Buschman
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My stories
The Lord’s Press
The room was dark. Heavy green blinds were drawn against the morning sun. Light crept in around their edges and sent shafts of golden dusty light across the room.
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- 686 reads
The Falling Leaves Home Part 4 (conclusion)
"So that's the way it goes," I thought. You go back.
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- 936 reads
The Falling Leaves Home - Part 3
a hand lettered note on pink paper from Claudine Prolifka saying she was having a "getting to know you" party at 1:00 p.m.
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- 1002 reads
The Falling Leaves Home - Part 2
Sixty years ago, Bertha, and I can still remember her perfume, the sound of her heels on a hardwood floor,
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- 743 reads
The Falling Leaves Home - Part 1
We are neither able nor willing to come and go, but it helps to think the option is still available.
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- 891 reads