Historical
The Ridge: The Whisper of the Leaves - Chap. 10
Sunday and Monday March 7-8 Carl never worked on Sunday, nor did he make any of his children. He didn’t go to church, but he had promised Edna before they got married that he would, in her words, “Keep the Sabbath holy”. He had never gone back on his promise.
By Dan Brawner4 years ago in Fiction
The Ridge: The Whisper of the Leaves - Chap. 8
James only had moments to enjoy Angie’s show of attention to him. However. Some few seconds after Angie had laid her head on his shoulder, he felt a sharp sting as something clipped the back of his left ear. He jumped slightly when it hit, enough to make Angie raise up.
By Dan Brawner4 years ago in Fiction
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
