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“I’ve got it all set up for you, if you really want to do it.”

“It’s not so much a matter of want as need,” Wes said. “This is something I need to do. I should do it.”

Sheryl shrugged. “Over there. I’ve got one in a little pen, and Warren sharpened the hatchet. He said to remind you to just hit the turkey, not yourself.”

Wes made a little smile. “So kind of him.”

“He was kidding around. But it is good advice.”

They reached the small pen, and Wes stared at the big turkey his cousin and her husband had set aside for him. Sheryl kicked at the pen to make the turkey move back a little. She opened the door and ushered Wes inside.

Continue reading “Fiction: Hatchet Job” →

When one lives on the wrong side of the edge of the desert, and when one is as aged as I am, one accepts that he will see certain things that other people would not. Mostly this is good, as the things I see are interesting.

I was sitting in my chair in the shade of the little porch I added to my little wooden home, which is built well enough to keep out most of the wind and sand and rattlesnakes. This is where I often am when I see interesting things. This day, I saw in the far distance an upright line. As I watched, the line grew and became a man. Although he walked upright with dignity, his gait told me he was tired. By the time he reached my little home I had water from my good well and a plate of food from my little garden ready for him.

Continue reading “Fiction: Interesting Company” →