Our Mutual Friend

It was early morning as I came round the barn and saw Calraigh’s Ford puttering up the hill. He’ll have news, then, I thought, and no more. Ciaran was in the barn tending our mutual friend, as we called the hostage. He wasn’t a bad sort, the Major. In Killylastin we’d be reared to hate the…

Destiny Unfold

He wanted to get away from her, from them. If he was honest, from himself. He didn’t announce it because it wasn’t planned. One day he’d grabbed his passport and driven to a used car lot, taken the salesman’s first offer and hitched a ride to the Greyhound station. On the San Diego docks, he…

Teithwyr Coll

Anarawd steps from the beached coracle, his steward Heilyn following behind him carrying their swords and lances. “What is this place, I wonder?” Anarwd says. “The sea-fog was so thick it might be anywhere.” “Is that not Castell Cricieth, Lord? Do not you recognize the tower?” Anarawd wipes his face to clear his eyes. It is the tower of…

How Goes the Project?

The Provincial Chief Inspector got out of the jeep. Zhou thought the military boots and trousers an odd outfit for a Provincial Chief Inspector, but the ways of these higher officials were nothing if not mysterious. Another man got out as well, a man not quite Chinese and not quite European, what Zhou’s mother would…

No Plan Wanted, No Plan Needed

Dale’s primary rule:  plan your dive and dive your plan.  For years he’d done exactly that, and not just in diving. The long years made of seemingly identical days of hurried breakfast and work and weekends. The kids moved from grade school to middle school to college and finally off into their own lives. Through it…

Crux

Gulder waded through the muck and swatted at the spit of flies hovering around his face. New Netherland. Such a grandiose name for this shabby place, but that was Stuyvesant all over. Pompous and self-important, quick to take insult, and––above all––immensely ambitious, Stuyvesant’s first action upon landing was to read the proclamation declaring himself Director-General…

Ära Hõiska Enne Õhtut

Paavo hurried, knowing his uncle Hillar was a stickler for punctuality. Uncle Hillar stood beneath the flag, the thermos tucked beneath his arm as always.  And as always, he tapped his watch with his finger. “Oh, come on,” said Paavo. “I bet it’s not even two minutes.” Hillar shook his head.  “On time is on time, and anything after…