By any other

Gladys Howard had seen the dead, the ones clinging hopelessly to the last strands of life, those with missing portions of a once full body, some who would need to have pieces of their bodies severed to save their life. She’d seen so much in only three months, and already she felt numb to it.  Even now, using all of her strength to hold the young soldier down as the doctor sawed off his left leg below his knee,  she was thinking only about her next cigarette. Continue reading

The Last Man

Johnny Hendricks had told them to run. He said he’d be okay, that he’d see them back at the chopper that would take them away from this maddening place, even if only for a brief respite. He’d said it all with a smile, so there was no reason to dispute him in the matter, because he’d always been fine, why should this instance be any different?

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Abacus Jones: Soulless Cowboy in,

part 22

I found myself in the dark place again, standing and staring into nothingness.

“Here again?  Already?” Came the voice from behind me, the voice of the boy that claimed to be my son.

             “Last place I want to be, believe me. “ I responded as I turned to face him again.

             “Surprisingly you aren’t dead, you know.” Continue reading

Improbably Yours…

I remember the beach the most from the day that I met her.  Why I’d been there, I couldn’t recall now.   The couple walking their petite dog, if you can still call it a dog at such a size, as they talked about the roasting of coffee beans and what nuance of flavor suited a roast the best.  The single gull that hung in the air, its wings spread wide just cupping the upturned breeze.  And the waves that pelted the shores.  The daring naysayers that ignored the word of those standing far back enough to see the ferocity of the waters as they took to their boards and tried to defy nature, to tame it.  The waters were warm the day they pulled her under. Continue reading

Abacus Jones: Soulless Cowboy in,

abacus header21
His eyes stared back at mine. A damned mirror of a sort. As if my dark eyes and heart could ever reflect light. Not that Angel was ever good. Not from my dealings with the white eyed bastard. Hell, I bet even his name was one he dare gave to himself. Probably had a real name once like Charleston or some uppity name like that. Damn his eyes. Continue reading