I am the one who has preached measured expectations when reading new books by favorite authors, because each new book deserves to be weighed on its own merit, not compared to others the author has written. He has created an unsympathetic, morally dubious character who is utterly unforgettable, and has slayed me in the process.
Jack Trammell A Glimpse of Heaven The sky was a pale pink arc, slowly sinking beneath a growing blackness.
Kimble stared at it and thought it a rarity; much more aesthetically pleasing than most sunsets; more vivid, and intense; much more detailed than usual, with an amazing clarity.
It made him think of heaven, which he had been taught was somewhere up in the sky, and that made him think about all of the people who had preceded him to that place, many of them under tragic circumstances, or very unexpectedly.
Then, a bizarre image popped into his head, uninvited. There were tombstones in the pinkish sky, dotting it like gross birds clipped of their wings.
It was Ashton, another private who had somehow survived as long as Kimble had. Ashton always camped with him or near him, but the sunset had taken Kimble away, and for a moment Ashton had appeared as an utter stranger. I was simply admiring that fine view to the west, and thinking about things.
He was still innocent, despite the carnage and gore he had lived through. His face, babyish and pale, almost feminine, betrayed no secret carnal knowledge of the world.
I suppose I was thinking about the dead. Then the young man sighed deeply and nodded his head. That comment annoyed him - he hated simplifications. They were the cheapest way he knew of to ignore a problem. The conversation was probably a waste of time, but he continued it anyway.
What about people who died thousands of years ago? What about Julius Caesar, or Napoleon - where are people like that now? All of those people must be where that color comes from.
He shook his head, then shrugged and closed his eyes, as if meditating. Kimble took this as free license to continue. But I wonder if they leave right away, or linger somewhere in-between, or if they watch themselves for a while before they quit this place.
Do they still feel pain? I mean do they despise the war, and the killing and suffering, and the senseless fighting?
Do they follow us into battle? To hell with him, anyway, he thought.the wolf and the ladder Once upon a time, there was a wolf called Howler who lived in a valley where lots of fruit trees grew.
Howler would often try to climb up the trees to eat the fruit they produced. Feb 05, · For example, one of the students was hired by a large oil company to work as a welder, The young man is not only working for the oil company, he also started a mobile welding service.
His school debt disappeared in two years.
There are other stories of available jobs that pay well, but the applicant fails the drug screening. Sad times I tell timberdesignmag.com: Daniel Strohl. rivet, reunion, school, memory, future, elphabalives17THE FIFTEEN YR REUNION it was officially time for the 15 year reunion at RMS for the rivet class of many changes had occured within the .
Read the short story free on Booksie. Good writers move up and down the ladder of abstraction. At the bottom are bloody knives and rosary beads, wedding rings and baseball cards. At the top are words that reach for a higher meaning, words like "freedom" and "literacy.".
Choose from thousands of free novels and stories from the best up-and-coming writers.
Add your own stories. Discover over , free ebooks - stories, books, poems, and more on timberdesignmag.com Short Story A short story is a brief work of literature, usually written in narrative prose.
Emerging from earlier oral storytelling traditions in the 17th century, the short story has grown to encompass a body of work so diverse as to defy easy characterization.