The warden stood at the barbed guardrails of the south tower, looked upon the yard, and removed his cap. The December air chilled his nose, pinched his cheeks, and iced along his thinning scalp. And yet even as he shivered, he knew it was insufficient: this cold was not enough to make the prisoners wear the hats.… more
Writer: Samuel J Adams
Fur
FICTION by Samuel J AdamsThe doorbell rang and I stepped outside and bloodied my sheepskin slippers in dead squirrel parts. I saw her Volvo speed off, filling the street with the goosey honking of its horn. I wrapped the squirrel carcass in the ruined doormat and tossed both in the trash. I didn’t know what else to do… more
