Dream October 2012
I was a gypsy child last night. My skin tanned by countless days beneath the sun of our forest. Only about 13 or 14. When the soldiers come and separate us, I recall glimpses...
Tagged: war
Business, The
Shake off the shake off the private times privatize humane acts sell large-scale bigotry hail its seasoned carcass with bits of ground pepper and nuclear ash in a world where presidents get reduced to...
The Outside – Part One
Short Fiction With little knowledge of the outside, I stare helplessly at the city gates. Stumbling onto the platform, only a few stragglers continue their shushed conversations. I motion toward John, who rallies...
Fixed On War
Short Story Face down in the mud, I dragged myself through thorns and thickets of shrubs. The damp was seeping into my boots, and the chill biting at my flesh. My men surrounded...
The Red Butterfly, Part Eleven – A War Worth Fighting
Short Story The music had begun. Anna kissed the old horse-faced man on both cheeks, then gave him a hug. She must know him, I thought. The Horse-faced man disappeared into the crowd that...
The Red Butterfly, Part Ten – That Is Where He Died
Short Story “I told you that we would meet again,” said Augustín. “You were right.” “I am always right, Americano,” he said as he closed the door behind us. We entered a small space...
The Red Butterfly, Part Six – Love in the Time of War
We walked through the dark streets of Lavapiés, past shuttered Indian, Chinese, and Arabic shops selling trinkets and mysterious packaged goods. The streets were empty except for young North African men who prowled like wolves...
