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My mom took one look at me and said, “Look at you; a dirty, filthy mess.’’ I was six years old, mixed a concoction of dirt with too much water to cement a small fort of stones for my army action figures. My face and clothes were streaked with mud, hands caked … Continue reading
Saylor Webby was a young adult. He was valedictorian of his high school class just a year before, which wasn’t easy to do amidst all the changes that were taking place. He had the work experience that most men would gain by their 30s: he hung drywall, repaired the oven in his parent’s house to … Continue reading
Note: This is a revised edition of a fictional story from two years ago. James Paronoa was shocked out of his sleep at 5:08 am to the sound of broken glass. The momentum of rising upward made him bounce on the bed. He looked at his alarm clock. “Damn,’’ he said, threw off a … Continue reading
There was an old house that sat on the top of a hill in my hometown. The window frames were green, or they looked green, and the wooden slats that comprised the walls were a dingy white that faded and became dirty and scummy over the years. It was, at one time, a beautiful home … Continue reading
At the Veterans Hospital, Bill Gadonski and his mother stood over his father, looking down at the emaciated man. Mr. Gadonski just lay there, not moving, taking up little more than half the bed; he was deteriorating at a faster pace now. Along the sides of the bed, the rails were pulled up and the … Continue reading
James Paronoa was shocked out of his sleep at 5:08 am to the sound of broken glass. The momentum of rising upward made him bounce on the bed. He looked at his alarm clock. “Damn,’’ he said, threw off the blankets, and walked to the window to see where the noise came from. “Might as … Continue reading
History's Observer 