Category Archives: Writing

SHORT STORY: The Hunter A dark gray WC-130J Hercules roared from Biloxi’s Keesler Air Force Base into the cobalt blue sky. The Hurricane Hunters were on yet another mission — a hurricane had entered the Gulf of Mexico. Sphincters were … Continue reading →

The knight sat on the ground, burned and battered. His armor and ego were dented. The dragon had kicked his butt again. A singed glove felt around for his sword. It, too, was broken. He was having an absolutely crappy … Continue reading →

A few weeks back, I ate at a nice restaurant. My server was kind, but not terribly attentive. I’d say on a one to 10 scale, she was probably a six (and I cut servers a lot of slack — … Continue reading →

Central Time The traveler from afar stood by his car, wearing black in a field of stone. He put a scoop of dirt in a jar with tape on a lid labeled, “home.” The ink on the tape smeared on … Continue reading →

Snap. Crackle. Pop. Arthritic knees creaked as the old man climbed onto the wing. This had been so much easier 70 years ago, he thought, as he carefully slid into the open cockpit of the P-51D Mustang fighter plane. Air … Continue reading →

Pride. Passion. Purpose. Petal School District’s superintendent Dr. Matt Dillion introduced the district’s new theme to his staff during their opening meeting Monday morning. Then I got up and spoke. There’s something I about a new school year that I … Continue reading →

Captain Warr looked up at the bottle on the shelf and then out a the Mississippi Sound. Both contained liquids that were brown. And both were killers. Liquor had nearly killed Captain Warr. The Mississippi Sound had murdered his wife. … Continue reading →

It happened even before Hurricane Katrina’s winds stopped blowing: We checked on our neighbors. Got gas (when we could find it) and bought stuff at the store. We then took the stuff to our church or synagogue. And we didn’t … Continue reading →

Jim Collins reached down and placed a handful of dirt into a jar. He tightly screwed on the lid and wrote the word “home” on a piece of tape. The brutally hot August sun painted the fields brown. A lone … Continue reading →

Everyone is running from something. Some are just better runners than others. The Dolphin Breeze Resort’s pink stucco betrayed its age and the fact the resort was past its prime. Nestled squarely in the middle of the Redneck Rivera, the … Continue reading →