Gail Winfree
Bio
Gail L. Winfree is the only 73-year-old writer from Tennessee who lives in Bulgaria. With a background in journalism, he now writes between poetry and prose and has published two novels and a collection of short stories and poems.
Stories (11)
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Day 7
Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It’s been six months and four days since my last confession. Father, I have hurt others in the most horrid ways. I have blindly killed people, many people, even the most innocent, in the name of war and…for money. And I have disrespected my mother and forsaken my family in time of need.
By Gail Winfree5 days ago in Fiction
The Naked Woman in My Backyard
Saturday morning and I’m home alone not feeling like doing much of anything. I just poured my first cup of coffee, the wake-me-up cup, when I look out the window and see a naked woman in my backyard. That surprises me since I’ve never seen a naked woman in my backyard before. Three thoughts enter my mind —
By Gail Winfree21 days ago in Poets
The Day It Rained Popcorn at the County Fair
Aunt Faye was determined to see Elvis, even if it meant making a fool of herself. So when she heard the King was performing at the county fair, she went into a state of adrenaline-induced panic. First thing she did was go down to Dalke’s Drug Store and load up on loud lipstick, eyeliner, makeup, and a bottle of cheap perfume. On the way home, she stopped at Larry’s Liquor Store and bought a fifth of tequila and a whole box of those little bottles of chasers.
By Gail Winfree21 days ago in Fiction
Two Jars of Honey and a Kiss
Lucas removed his shoes and socks, rolled up his pant legs, and waded into the water hidden behind a wild growth of willow, alder, and pine that shaded the river bank from the hot afternoon sun. Here, the river ran narrow and shallow and the water was clear and cool. Lucas cupped his hands, scooped up some water and threw it in his face. It felt good and washed the sticky dried sweat from his brow. Just a couple of hours earlier, he had been in town selling honey at the market, while sweltering the summer heat. It had been a fine day for him. There was a good market for honey.
By Gail Winfree23 days ago in Fiction
