Archives: September 2017

Is This Sunday?

“Where is my coffee?” “It’s right there in front of you, dear.” “Ah. Yes. So it is!” He lifted it to his lips and for a moment I could again see what he’d looked like as a little boy. “Oh, this is good. What is it again?” “It’s coffee, dear. Just as you like it.”

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Excerpt: Ulysses of Sorts

In honor of all those soldiers, Marines, airmen and sailors who are dying in the name of America,  I give you an excerpt from a story about Stuart Dulley,  a young man who joined the Marines in 1940 and got caught up in the hideous machine of war.  Stuart watched her and decided Navy nurses

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You Should Be Safe For Now

He flicked on the light. The room had a musty, disused air about it. Stale air and dust, dull and windowless. “What is this place?” she asked. “It used to be a barrel house. Bootleggers would store their whiskey here until they could ship it upriver.” He pointed to a trap door in the floor.

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El Murió En La Perla

Ramón held his glass aloft. “A toast,” he shouted over the din of the crowd. “To San Sebastián!” “And his perforated testicles!’ roared Philippe. They clicked glasses and drained the fiery rum in one swallow. “Another!” Ramón yelled to the barman. All around them the crowd surged shoulder to shoulder, filling the bar and spilling

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Waiting

In June of 1999 I was traveling back to Portland after visiting my father in Tucson with my three-year-old daughter in tow. We missed a connection and wound up in the Las Vegas Airport. It was my first time in that city, and in the late hour the airport was almost empty An island of garish casino machines

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Hanbleceya

The old man turned off the truck. The only sound was the Ford’s engine ticking as it cooled. “Well,” said Cole. “Guess I better get started.” “Guess you better,” said the old man. Cole opened the door and stepped onto the rocky ground. The old man got out and came around to stand next to

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June 1940

“Red leader, rendezvous angels ten over grey beach.” Angels ten? Far too low. He had no intention of repeating yesterday’s disaster when ops sent them over Dunkirk at 10,000 feet.  Three dozen Messerschmitts dove out from the sun and cut the squadron to ribbons. But arguing with ops was like kicking a rubber wall. “Red

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Jesuit Relations

 Anue stands as he speaks. The leader of the Cord People, he is a lean man with both sides of his skull shaved clean, his face painted ochre and crimson. He holds aloft a bundle wrapped in deerskin. “I tell you this. Our enemies the Hadenosaunee have already made an alliance. Not with the French,

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