Mr. Willis Montgomery ate his breakfast slowly. It was Saturday. The end of the week had come. He had no more excuses. It was time to rake the yard. Mr. Montgomery despised raking. He hated the crunch of the leaves beneath his feet. It was like listening to someone chew…
Dear Future Self, If you’re reading this, you’ve made it through another year. Congratulations! If you’re not reading this, you’re probably dead. Sorry about that. It’s January, and if you’re anything like me (and I’m betting you are), you’re feeling pensive. It’s dark and it’s cold and most mornings you…
The dimly lit gymnasium/bingo hall of St. Mary’s Catholic School squeaked with shuffled strides and rubber wheels as the members of the Heidelberg/Smolinske family gathered for their annual Christmas reunion. Great Aunt Mabel had died in August, fifteen years after her husband, nearly to the day (wasn’t that always how…
Today’s story from the archives is “The House of Memories.” For some reason, back when I scheduled the release of these stories, I put this one here the week before Christmas, despite it being not remotely festive. It is, if anything, a tale suited more for Halloween than Christmas. It…
Another weekend, another short story dug out of the archives. This week it’s “Old Man,” a story that takes place in Vienna, my fictional Midwestern town which is not much unlike the one I live in. Often, these stories include fictionalized versions of real events and people. This story is…
The Saturday after Thanksgiving we made the six-hour trip from Peoria, IL, back home. By the last hour, all the kids (and the adults) were tired and bored and ready to be done. I put on the Muppets Most Wanted soundtrack and we bounced to the ridiculous songs. (The “Interrogation Song” is…
Dear reader, it’s time to go way back in the archives. While “The Deadliest Sword” is older by a year or so, “The Walk” stands as a marker in my growth as a writer. I wrote it sometime in high school, and it is, I think, the first story that…
Author’s Note: In poetry class in college, we attempted different forms. This is a sestina. Sestinas are a pain, where you choose six words to end each of the six lines of a stanza, and these words rotate through the lines of each subsequent stanza, until you use them all…
Time for another story from the archives! I almost forgot about this one. I usually write some sort of speculative fiction. If I write contemporary, it’s usual a “Vienna” story, a tale set in the fictional Midwest town of Vienna. Today’s story “Incidents on a Sunday Afternoon,” however, stands alone….
Time for an actual author update, as opposed to a story. Once again, it’s time for me to shuffle forth from my hermitage into the dusty autumnal light. This time, it’s to attend my first “con,” or convention, as an author. If you’re in Fort Wayne this Saturday and Sunday,…
The line was too long and I didn’t like apple fritters, but I had committed to buying one anyway, so I was stuck waiting as the crowd pressed past me. It hadn’t been quite as crowded in the primitive area where I’d bought myself a wooden toy axe while I…
A sonnet I wrote for my wife’s birthday years ago: I find at times all words as lengthened shadows, Distorted views of figures clothed in light— As a jewel set upon a ring, its brilliance bright, I cut my words to capture what I know. But how to write what God…