Paradise Springs was a dying town. I'd never been anywhere near the place, but I'd seen enough little shit-holes just like it to know the drill. It was Mayberry by way of the Twilight Zone, the kind of place where good people worked hard and died young and the bad ones grew fat and lived […]
Illustration by Chris KallasPart 1 Evan sat at his bedroom window and stared at the night sky. It had been a strange day for him indeed. He thought about what happened and smiled. Today was a turning point. A day when he summoned all of his courage and made a decision on his own, against
It was a South Texas spring, and the roadside along Highway 59 was a sunlit sea of bluebonnets, brightly-accented with dandelions and glaring red wildphox. The colors ran together in a psychedelic mosaic as they whizzed past Ringo on his Shovelhead. The old Harley was loaded down like a pack mule, with bedroll and bags
Lefty felt the vibration of his old Pan's engine tingling in the small of his back. “Man I'm getting old,” he thought to himself heading out on a lonely desert highway. “The bike's running good,” again thinking to himself. He had experienced some electrical problems recently. The electrical system was almost fifty years old. He
Illustration By George FlemingTinker was up at sparrows fart; the persistent dawn chorus of “we want worms” could normally be ignored, but this weekend was the Hawg Wallow. That wasn’t really the name, but the first year was a washout that left Harleys mired to their hubs, and it stuck. He wasn’t a pretty sight
H. L. Harding, known to his friends and enemies alike as “Hardluck” for obvious reasons, walked through the sagging front door of The Rathole Bar and Grill and deposited his wiry frame on a dangerously tilting bar stool. He turned to the only other patron of the erstwhile prosperous establishment. Eddie, the bartender, sat a
The Hostiler Un-Run Read More »
The sun was a spoiled lemon drowning itself at the soiled surface of the sea. The waves swept forward and flowed back, with hushed sounds like giggling girls playing with a stranger’s shadow. I wiped the sweat on my forehead, fixing my hat to avoid the twisted rays of the dying lemon-sun. A strange taste
Photos of Sherry by SamDixon.com My old Shovel was chuggin' right along and I was kind of letting my thoughts wander about the last few years I suffered through. The divorce wasn't particularly nasty except for the typical 'worthless motherfucker, never amount to nothing', blah, blah… I didn't give a shit anymore, and she didn't
Can A Glass Of Sherry Save Him Read More »
It’s better if you don’t know my name.Better for you, and certainly better for me.I’m the person you hear about on the news sometimes, or read about in the newspapers.I’m probably one of the most wanted people in America.Wanted by State and local Police Forces, the FBI, hell the CIA and the NSA for all
“Cheeky bugger!” Tinker growled, fighting to control the wobble occasioned by a close encounter of the fast kind. A taillight rapidly diminished into the night, but Tinker had already dropped a cog and given pursuit. He’d been on the way back from ‘Rockers’ Reunion’ in Reading, humming the old songs, dawdling along the M4 at
