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The Little Man With The Red Cap Part 2
This group of children, the little man knew, had yet to choose whether they were going to be good or bad. The choice was almost never a conscious one, but one that every child made and that decision would guide them throughout their lives. The decision was usually made around the same time the child…
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The Little Man With The Red Cap Part 1
Pavement. Some of the people queried said pavement was concrete or cement that they walked on. Others claimed pavement was the black tar and gravel mixture that they drove on. Curious creatures, the little man thought as he plodded along. Unable to agree on such simple things. A precious few believed it was unimportant what…
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The Weight of Pain
“I didn’t help someone who needed me yesterday.” The woman spoke with a catch in her voice though she did not cry. Like everyone else in the room, she looked young for her age and was fit. Many of the people there bore scars or wore eye patches, and a few were missing…
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Breathe Part 2
Sanity returned. The thick chains that held him bound dug deep into his chest, arms and legs, cutting his flesh in places where the padding in his clothes had been pushed aside. He should be in agony from it all but, where his sight, hearing, smell and taste had all increased since his cursing,…
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Breathe Part 1
Breathe, the man told himself as he pressed through the crowded streets. Breathe, he thought as the other people on the street eyed him as he passed, their gaze flitting over him and then away nervously. Breathe, it was like some incantation that would keep him safe, and it just might, for a time.…
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Driftwood
Small waves lapped at the floating piece of driftwood and the rhythmic motion almost rocked the sleeping man off of it. As it was, he awoke just in time to catch himself and resettled his body back into place. The sun glared down on his face, skin raw and peeling from exposure and his lips…
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A Letter Home
I’m sure you will not believe this, but please read it through. Perhaps, by the end of it all, you will see why I’ve done what I’ve done. The first time it happened, I was seven, playing with a friend in his back yard. His house sat on the banks of the river and we…
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What’s In It?
Mrs. Govers sat uneasily at her kitchen table and stared at the thing before her. It steamed in a manner almost menacingly even as it’s tempting scents wafted over to her: sweet and cinnamony. It was already sliced, a piece had even been served onto one of her small plates. A silver fork lay beside…
Bridge of Broken Glass
Stories from my mind that won't be quiet
Bridge of Broken Glass 