The Man with the Gun

Light streaks through the window.  Eight stripes from blinds highlight the floor.  The spare light shows a solitary figure tucked in the corner of a barren room.  John shakes violently.  His thirty seven years curl him into a psychological pretzel.  Muttering about delusions.  He’ll shift side to side. Light catches the barrel of a Colt 45, his trembling hands hide the rest.

The full moon creeps into view.  The smile of the Manin the Moon finds John.  It says I found you.  It creeps across the floor deliberately.
“Go away! Leave me be! Go, go, go! Away with you!” John shouts.  Hisar enter body thrusts side to side to avoid the moonlight.

His mind lost in delusions of the last time the full moon came for him.  He props up against the left wall.

Twenty eight days ago, a teenager knocked on the door.  The kid clad in the Union Jack riding a Jap bike. The Man in the Moon sent him.  John knew it.  He told the Man next time the Colt lays waiting for his return.

The Manin the Moon teases him.   Coming back into view, there’s a smile.”What do you want from me?!  if you’re going to do me in, do it now!!!” Johns screams,slowly fading to a swallow  emotional cry.

Downstairs the doorbell erupts. The porch tells of pacing feet.  He shakes faster and faster he finally collapses stop the floor.  He crawls to the window to see the assailants.  Two small figures converge on the stairs then part.  The hands find the door knocking loudly.

“Leave me alone!  Go away!  You’re going to get me!”  John repeats this over and over hysterical in tone and tempo.

Voices catch the wind .  A serious talk and laughter carry through an open window.  The laughter is of innocence and youth, carefree.  It tears years off his life.  Ten, twelve, fifteen years….Back to the shock and awe campaign.  He fought a good fight. He didn’t live as a frightened kid.  He was a bit older, wiser. He knew how the fight was to be.  But the man pulled him back.  He was hesitant to win the fight like it should be.   The perception was more than the outcome.

Suddenly a new found energy flooded through his body.  It wasn’t the Man was after him but the country God gave the world.  The country that God deemed to rid the Devil and evil from the world. His eyes try to lock on those figures.  They have vanished.  Quickly, his eyes focus across the street.  The attack is at the neighbors instead.  The Man has taken his neighbors to pay for his hiding. John flings the window open.  The gun cocks.  In a split second both would fall.  By the time his mind catches up, his ears cringe at the words racing across the street.

“Would you like to purchase Girl Scout cookies.” The words haunt him.  It’s the easiest way in a home. Trust.
(Original written, thirty years ago.  I edited a bit and updated.)


​Her pulse races.  Ears ring from heartbeats.   Her eyes dart.  No vision just images. Cascading fears darken the world. 

 A bead of sweat.  Flash of heat shots from head to toe.   Moments now hours.  Trapped.  Like a glass box.  Reduced to a statue.

In a flash.  Attacked.  Ambushed.  Panic swallows her whole.  A trembling hand finds a knife.   The knife finds a back. 

Olivia collapses 

<a href="">Panic</a>

Autumn Witch 

My sun filled mornings gone

Dark grey fingers roll clouds forth

There’s a chill in the air 

Sweet summer humidity now dampness 

Big fluffy white now slate flat blankets

She comes to drain the green

My trees will bleed out on rainbows

Biting winds will strip them clean

In a slow methodically planned assault 

The final warmth will leave this world

By a cold touch the world will fall asleep 

Resting to re-emerge in some sunny day


“I think back. It was so clear.  Those lovely dark eyes, magically lite obsidian mirrors. I wish I knew now what I didn’t know then.”  My words fade.  I hope I spoke out loud.  If it matters I’m not sure. Validation in speech.  Hope another soul hears my words.  Either way I hold my final curse.  Why is unknown even to me.

I stare into the eyes of a stranger.  So binding, but unknown.  I’m familiar with all that attaches to those eyes.  The moments I have lost in those arms.  The body around them.  I’m a fool.  A lonely, overthinking fool.   It was a dream, nightmares are dreams.  We often forget that part.  A smile flashes.  God, I love the smile.  It melts my heart.  It consumes me.  That was a warning.  Life is never what it appears to be.  We never think it happens to us.  Damn.  The pain is in my back.  The smile was the most real part of her.  In a flash, I’m weak.  My back a location for deceit. 

A little more

Back – Six Sentence Stories

There was a distinct pain, one that tells of bad feelings long held.  I arched my back as if that could reduce, relieve the obvious knife plunged deep.  Such a kind friendly hand to deal such a blow.  

I fade to black in the longest instant in memory.  The approaching floor scares me back into the past when things were different. Back when things were simple to me, at least.

A little more


Locking the Door

Shadows move past

Time is a stream 

Torrid currents tear at banks

I watch in awe

 You eat my future

Sandbars of tattered dreams

Empty shells make for mourning

Monuments, fragments of the past

Neat stacks of bad things

Pieces of lost time

Does it matter?

I’m a shadow

Shattered memories

The door of the past

Is a small opening 

Easily cut off

Wordle #256

We wove a basket. The straw I tried pulled through your guise.  A writhe championed by the fire that smelted us together.  To be dyed in the wool. A deplorable condition but I await spring to thaw the smite in which you borne me.

Evening slips away

The Sun goes orange

It’s yellow rays tarnished

Full day worth of light spent

Final beams trace shadows

They lie waiting for time

Crickets chirp pushing clock hands

Stars crawl over the horizon

Gentle cool breezes chase heat

The world sinks into quiet

Darting of bats provide motion now

A distant coyote cries out

His day begun in darkness

Slowly the moon rises high

As evening slips away