writing – 10 Chickens to Maine

The Hill

Fourteen was the number of carts which could fit in the corral before they became a parking hazard. Really, fourteen was the maximum and assumed the carts had been nested correctly, which they never were. The cart corrals were all at the bottom of the hill; a steep grade that made the calves ache andContinue reading “The Hill”

The 24th.

As I sat there, looking down at the Berretta in my lap, I wondered how I’d arrived at this point. I was sitting in the driver’s seat of a dark Hyundai, and in less than twenty minutes I would fire that gun into the brain of a human being. Or maybe the chest, then theContinue reading “The 24th.”