Tag Archives: Rural

The Rattler

The Rattler

FICTION by

Mom said the Lord blessed me with a gift that would make people who loved me happy and people who mistreated me dead. more

Dry Rot

Dry Rot

FICTION by

The wind seemed to grow colder. John’s breath was held. He stayed entirely still, unmoving even at the will of the thankless, dry gale. In a jagged clash of metal against snake leather, the snake was stopped short.more

Thoughts of Death in the Big Country Morning

Thoughts of Death in the Big Country Morning

FICTION by

He would stand on the porch and curse the trains in the distance and then move to the meadow and sit still, so to watch the deer moving slowly through the long grass, and then he would go to the edge of the pond at night and look at the beautiful moonlight mixing like oil into the pond water and he would think about putting a bullet straight through his brain and sinking to the moss at the bottom of the water.more

True Outlaw

True Outlaw

FICTION by

Santa Claus always gets the credit for delivering Christmas gifts, but it was tired, overworked bastards like me making sure everything got there on time, 13-speed, 500-horsepower white Freightliner pulling a dry van, and rather than shouting ho-ho-ho and whipping reins, we were throwing gears and blowing our horns at assholes in beemers cutting us off at every exit.more

One Hundred Knives

One Hundred Knives

FICTION by

I made a rule in the old apartment not to answer the phone during exercise time, but this was a new house, my house. I make a new rule, pull the phone out.more

Ralphie is a Good Boy

Ralphie is a Good Boy

FICTION by

Ralphie is a good dog. We say “Good boy!” and “Good doggie!” because Ralphie can wait patiently for his turn to eat. Ma says, “Patience is a virtue.”  So when Ralphie waits patiently by the table for us to be done, Ma lets him clean up the scraps. Ralphie is a Golden Lab. He ismore

Rent Town

Rent Town

FICTION by

Easy payments!more

Relentless

Relentless

FICTION by

A good Christian boy learns to lie to himself in profound ways.more

Good at Finding

Good at Finding

FICTION by

I can still hear her sayin’, “Why you want to clean up after people’s dirty selves. Not too much pride in that.”more

HARVEST

HARVEST

FICTION by

But Myers always wanted to quit the mine that he worked full time for, to fold his workpants up, shove them into the woodstove, beat across Field’s Church Road down to the riverbank, and slowly drown himself, strangling on the water, washing the ash and dust out of his eardrums, and die in a pure way, natural, so he wouldn’t end up dirty like his father, hanging from the main beam, filthy as a day’s work. more