Prose

The Winter 2024 Issue, Vol 2 No 3

David W. Perkins

Vanished Mein Bruder ist gestorben. Yes, I know. It’s German. Roughly translated, “My brother died.” But, to say that in English about my brother, John, feels like I am speaking another language. John did die on December 10, 2020, after a brief bout with stage four pancreatic cancer.

David W. Perkins

Relational Template When I make a round trip hike on a mountain trail, the return offers different vistas of the path already walked. Life seems similar! I see experiences differently and make new connections as I walk back along my life path in reflection. Old understandings of simple cause and effect, the pool-ball-in-the-corner-pocket dynamic, give way to new and enlightening and more complex insights into how the pieces interlock. Life more closely resembles an unexpected bank shot than the straight-in-the-pocket affair.

Deidra Whitt Lovegren

Paths of Glory Lead But to the Grave “How can he do this?” In tears, Professor McCarthy’s teaching assistant holds up her manuscript, replete with red slashes and angry question marks. “Oh, Cammy. Try not to take it personally.” I stand up from my secretarial desk to offer her a box of tissues. “McCarthy has a standard few of us ever achieve.” She wipes her eyes and gathers her composure. “They told me working for him would be an honor and a disaster.” Cammy frowns at the papers in her hands. Summoning Aristotle to McCarthy’s defense, I shrug and reply, “There is no great genius without madness."

Dabney E. Farmer

Rural Living & Bear sightings At Their Finest One benefit of living in a rural country is all the wildlife you can see from your own backyard. In the city you get a squirrel. We find anything from small chipmunks to bunnies humping and living up to the term, ‘breed like rabbits,’ to even deer with their twin fawns.

C. V. Alba

The Gift Sherry accused her mother. “You always want what you can’t have. Every time I ask what you want for your birthday or some such, you whine that I can’t afford what you want, so I better not get you anything.”

Stephe Seton

Joel and Peggy on the Ridge This story takes life from a small village of cabins and shacks on a ridge of the Virginia Blue Mountains, a rough drive up poorly maintained fire roads through the George Washington Forest. The nearest town is Lovingston, and it is not near any road to this place. The village has no name. Just a place long gone from the summers of the 1960s. Joel Tinker, a boy of 16, lives with his parents and two younger sisters. His father is a lumberman, mostly working in the forest. Joel is a tall, skinny, immodest boy with long blond hair racing down his back. His best friend is my cousin Bert. Bert spends a few weeks each summer helping his widowed grandmother get her winter wood split and stacked. The place entertains visitors with family reasons to come and Boy Scouts who are told to come.