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My stories
Last Train To Memphis.
There was something about the old guy sitting at the corner table of Max’s Diner. Something that the owner couldn’t quite put his finger on. He’d...
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- 2018 reads
The Away Fan.
I’ve got an itch that I can’t scratch. You know what I mean. Something that just won’t go away. It could be nothing or it might just be something. It...
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- 1037 reads
Holding Hands.
My mind wanders. Is that the right word? I don’t know, perhaps I’ll ask Mary when she gets home from work. It’s sunny outside but cold. I’m guessing...
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- 1054 reads
BIG JOHN.
“You...are…having…a…fucking…laugh.” That’s how Big John started every sentence. He would wait for you to speak then with a roar that only Brian...
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- 4315 reads
Seven Years.
I pleaded not guilty. Said it was a crime of passion. But the judge and jury were having none of it and I got life. That was ten years ago and I’m...
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- 1057 reads