by James Callan The mountainside was showing off her autumn wardrobe. Looked like it was on fire. She didn’t stop at the water’s edge. That hot collage of red, orange, and gold; bits of brown and a smidge of stubborn, summer green. Seamless with the real thing, that portrait of mid-October reflected in the still …
My choices made me who I am. I could’ve been the Son of Sam— I could’ve been a violent man. The image of my father returning from jail hangs in my mind like a dusty painting. I want it to stay the same, but the colors keep changing. My mother and I share …
by Gene Pfeiffer “I’ll say it again, boys. Don’t do what they tell you. Don’t stay and fight. Get up and run, or you’ll never run again,” and with only his arms, he lifted his hips from the couch and, somehow balanced on his crutches, he dragged the decisions of the command structure all the …
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