A Conversation

This is an older piece of fiction I wrote years ago after binge watching films based on Ireland’s “Troubles.” It’s not particularly good, but I’m quite fond of it.     The old wooden chairs mingled with new metal ones. The bar stools were still here, still antiques. They would probably keep them, he thought, … More A Conversation

Wind Fighters

His face is weather beaten. It’s leather from the wind and rain. He sits in a hard plastic chair. The light is harsh and accentuates a scar he received in a drunken bar fight years ago. It is round like the broken tumbler that an angry drunk smashed into it. His eyes are dark and … More Wind Fighters

Paul’s Saints

The plane vibrates like all planes do as I land. This isn’t nearly the worst I’ve felt in a plane before, a teenage boy with sweats on and oversized sunglasses is trying to play it cool. I go back to reading. We hit an updraft. He kicks into the air and yells out an obscenity. … More Paul’s Saints

Driftwood

As he shaves he looks in the mirror and sees where his skin is ageing. When he was young he was handsome, he remembers. He was brave and adventurous. His life was so much more open and the opportunities were endless. He was also very stupid and arrogant. Now the wrinkles grow and his body … More Driftwood

Visitors

  There’s a place in the world. There, in that place, there is a long green. It stretches from the base of a mountain. There are bleached white logs from before man here. They are petrified and solid. The green runs along a stream that glistens in the sun and rain. It pours the stream … More Visitors