They say that men see their lives flash before their eyes—a last, fleeting glimpse of all they have endured…
The seething, frothing waters below looked cold and gray in the early morning light, the last remnants of the Scottish fog…
The blue sky seemed close and cut low, right above the black car dawdling along the dusty brown highway. A cloud of smoke — a…
There was a light wind blowing over the northern field, causing the wheat stalks to tremble and bend with a rigid uneasiness. The burnt…
There was a long, straight street in Barcelona that we would walk down each evening, enjoying the golden beams…
There was a yellow fabric in the carpets, woven crisscross against the gray lines. I remember staring at it as I walked down the narrow…
The sky was so blue outside, and Henry Ravilon could not write. He kept picking up his pen and touching it to his inkwell…
Sometimes, when the night was still young and he could not sleep, he would wander to the library of his house and…
The soldier lay on his back, his elbows resting in the muddy embankment that supported his slight frame. His chest moved…
Barnabas Bix.
Mercy, what a name! Have you ever heard such a name of excitement, wonder, a name that snaps…