Category Archives: Writing

At 1:43 a.m. on the morning of March 18, 2012, Jennie Mae Elquart’s loathing of police officers blossomed into fully formed hatred. Jennie Mae’s youngest son, Nixon, erupted from his mother’s womb during a late-night traffic stop on a flooded highway. After Nixon’s good … Continue reading →

I lumbered up the slight incline of the trail as it came to an end at the shoreline. The lake covered only ten acres, if that. A bench, placed at trail’s end by an environmental organization, invited me to sit and stare … Continue reading →

I awoke quite early this morning, long before the sun would begin to nudge the darkness aside, replacing it with smudges of grey fog-laden daylight. I made a cup of coffee and held it in my hands. Too warm, I thought to … Continue reading →

It was just shy of eleven in the evening and he felt defeated and useless. He had been writing for a few hours, but what he’d written did not have the desired effect. It was not suitable as a balm for a fractured soul. The … Continue reading →

Two men walked side by side, along a cold, windswept path, never saying a word to one another. Occasionally, when a dried Russian thistle tumbleweed rolled across the deserted highway in front of them, they exchanged glances, but no words were … Continue reading →

What would you call it?  A daydream? A fantasy?  I don’t know. Whatever you call it, though, I think all of us, every one of us, should have one.  I suspect it won’t be comfortable. In fact, it might be … Continue reading →

I entered through the monstrous wrought iron and glass front door of the house, in spite of having been told to enter through the kitchen door in the garage. Entry through a garage is just too casual, in my opinion, … Continue reading →

The empty streets of Manhattan, Kansas, captured on live internet video cams, seemed surreal to Connor Embleman. Not a living soul stirred in the city that, one week earlier, was home to fifty-six thousand people. Though the streets were absent … Continue reading →