Historical
The Ridge: The Whisper of the Leaves - Chap. 7
As promised, it was a few minutes after six p.m. when James pulled up in front of the Mitchell’s home on Hamilton Street. They lived in one of the more affluent areas of Wynne even though the Mitchell house itself was relatively modest compared to some of the other homes nearby.
By Dan Brawner4 years ago in Fiction
The Ridge: The Whisper of the Leaves - Chap. 15
Homer Lampkin had the duty Wednesday afternoon and night. He received three calls in quick succession about the wreck on #64 near Beebo’s curve, as the locals called it. It was so named because thirty years ago, a local real estate agent named David Beebo had gone off the curve and down the almost vertical 100 foot embankment four times in a two-week period.
By Dan Brawner4 years ago in Fiction
The Ridge: The Whisper of the Leaves - Chap. 26
Sunday, March 14 It was almost 5:00 pm when Homer Lampkin saw one of the town’s two fugitives. Lampkin was driving down highway #1 just south of Wynne when Gerald Borden burst out of the trees on his left, the Ridge side of the highway. Or at least he thought it was the Borden boy.
By Dan Brawner4 years ago in Fiction
Jack of Diamonds
CHAPTER 18: When You’re Shivering in the Grave… i Nigel woke up with a chill running through his body that reminded him of France. He was just a boy then; he knew that now. Still, he’d been cold that first winter. It was so cold your bones ached.
By ben woestenburg4 years ago in Fiction
My New York Blues
I arrived in Greenwich Village and waited about two weeks before my brother came to New York to join me. It was 1967, the year I turned twenty-five. Out of the Navy less than three years, I had issues tormenting me, the same ones that had made a feast out of my childhood. I just hadn't been able to shake them off. Walking McDougal Street, wondering how people I read about found each other. Knowing I didn't fit in if I knew. My hotel was a tall one, with no elevator. It was a long trip, and I soon planned my activities to avoid going in or out unnecessarily. When my brother came to town, his first act was to go deeper into Manhattan and rent us a better home. I never saw him wrinkle his nose at a place like that, before or since.
By Charles Turner4 years ago in Fiction
Rome's Average Love Story
“Fail to entertain me again slave and I shall have you killed where you stand.” Emperor Acidus was in a rather foul mood again today. He put down his wine and waved his hand away, gesturing for the slave to be brought out of his sight.
By Nicholas McKenna4 years ago in Fiction
jack of diamonds
Chapter 17: EVEN SHROUDS HAVE NO LININGS part iii “This it?” Chernetsov asked, looking at the rust-stained hulk of the Minotaur sitting in its berth. It was dusk, so there was little more he could see other than a dark silhouette as he listened to the water slapping against the hull as it rested on the tide. Massive tie-up lines wrapped around squat bollards slick with seaweed, the lines running at sagging lengths to the deck above; he could hear the hull scraping up against the berth with every passing wave of the tide.
By ben woestenburg4 years ago in Fiction
Swiss Remains
Forty-eight hours ago, Duane Tungstien was snapping pictures of some scumbag husband meeting his girlfriend in a sleazy hotel outside Chicago. Now, he is trapped in a ski chalet 100 miles from Zurich in the middle of a freak March storm with a motley crew of guests and a trunk with ghoulish carvings and no heat — a nightmare that has no beginning and no end. Who knew he would be longing for the endless sex scandals like a drug instead of being trapped with a cast of characters from Clue.
By Michael J Massey4 years ago in Fiction
jack of diamonds
ii The train out to Plymouth was s slow and plodding thing, and Reggie looked out at the passing countryside wondering what he’d gotten himself into. Guns; dope; Russians; the Solomon brothers? It was enough to make a man want to pull his hair out and scream at the top of his lungs. He’d have to be on top of his game, though; he’d have to be at his best. He’d been out of the game for so long now, that while Charlie may have felt confident having him back on board, Reggie didn’t feel the same way. He kept looking at his watch and looking up at the conductor, wanting time to press on. He wanted this over with; he wanted to get back to Chumley Grove, and Claire, settling back into the life he’d chosen, not this. He looked at his watch again. He had to get into the station and set up before six o’clock. The deal was set for eight o’clock tonight, so it’d be dark enough not to attract attention, Charlie said, and Reggie saw the sense in that. There were no electric lights along that side of the docks, and while an inconvenience, he thought it might work to his advantage by keeping the meeting area small. But he wanted to get there earlier because he didn’t trust the Solomons; he didn’t trust Charlie either, but then, he knew Charlie. Still, there was always going to be that nagging doubt in the back of his head, wasn’t there? An itch that just wouldn’t scratch; a pain that wouldn’t go away.
By ben woestenburg4 years ago in Fiction
