Award-winning Author & Consulting Storyteller
Cemetery Dance Epilogue OrUpon the Death And Burial of My Father For Dad The McKenzie Cemetery is old and dusty, and filled with the sounds of the West Texas chaparral pasture. To reach its century and a half old rocky fence, you turn off a blacktop Texas highway that rolls on and on, connecting San…
In memory of my late grandfather-
Pa Max
by C.S. Humble “I prayed, father. I lifted up to God my heart, which I prayed he would mend. I prayed until my lips were dry with my protestations against the wicked, devils, and their agents.Fervently, father, I prayed. Until my hair was damp, my brow beaded with sweat. I blessed my enemies with a…
My thanks to the folks at Horror Bound who gave a wonderful review of A RED WINTER IN THE WEST! He writes: There were plenty of surprises and twists throughout as well, always keeping the reader guessing about who was the next to go or who to trust. I would gladly recommend this book, either…
I was talking to my mom, who had called to wish me a happy birthday. I thanked her and said, “37 is a nice, sharp number.” Birthday year celebrations are wonderful little social markers. A way the entire community, born-into or chosen, circles a person and says, “We are glad you are here.” The community…
With all my thanks to Sam Lotfi of DC Comics
Forgiveness is the most unforgiving command of all Christian virtue.
It is Christmas morning in Eastland, Texas. The year is 1996. My maternal grandfather and grandmother are still alive. My siblings and cousins and I are sitting in a living room that faces the southern edge of Lake Leon. We are surrounded by innumerable packages, all of them wrapped in shining gossamer paper, piled high…
At the center of a child’s heart there is a pillar upon which they place an indelible marble carving. That pillar is the champion’s perch. Its height stretches beyond cynicism. Time cannot reach its summit. The Champion’s Pillar is unassailable, unbreachable, because a child built it with a child’s imagination from childish hopes and dreams. For the child, the pillar will stand forever, sincere.
It is a dangerous proposition to wax nostalgic about the American tradition in the 21st century. As a national community, we don’t care much for the company of each other. It’s like we’ve all overstayed our welcome at Thanksgiving, the conversations turned political, the Cowboys lost, and someone dropped Grandma’s seventy-five-year old recipe for mashed…