Formosa, Cricket, Influenza.
“Mom?” Seven year old Ian screamed bloody murder as he ran through the house, his big brother Auden right behind him. “Mom!” They slammed open the screen door and exploded out on the back porch, a ball of fists and feet. The fight was over quickly; eleven year old Auden was bigger. He landed a fist in Ian’s left eye and Ian howled.
That’s what you get, you little twerp.” Growled Auden, aiming a kick at his brothers behind. Read the rest of this entry
Porch, Eagle, Binoculars
The old man sat in the old wooden rocker on his back porch all afternoon. His friends used to call him Red, due to the hair that used to grace the top of his head. It was mostly gone now, and what was left sure wasn’t red anymore. The friends were gone too, but he hardly cared about that. Red had a great backyard; it oversaw a small lake and part of a mountain range. Tango, North Dakota. About as far north in the USA as you can get without coming south again, he used to joke. You could hold a camera up out here and take a perfect picture without ever looking in the viewfinder. Read the rest of this entry