1970

This booth is ridiculously close to the highway.   I grab the phone almost before it rings.

“You heard right, Jay.  It was Phoebe.  I talked with the Saratoga police, told them I was following up on a similar M.O. here in New York.   Lacerations on fa… Read full post »

1888

Sunday considered burning a lot of things.

The chapel where he knelt and prayed and didn’t believe.  The birthing tent where he was God to screaming women and newborns.  The hammock where he spent his evenings.  The house where she slept, dreaming that she was… Read full post »

 1970

A heavy army-surplus tent has been mounted to the bed of the truck, making it a modern covered wagon.  From inside, the old man has a good view of both the crowd and the speaker.

The Magic Man shouts.  He prances.  He spreads his arms… Read full post »

 1888

Sunday stares up at it, considering all the threads in the rope of a noose.  She decides that there are far too many to count.

But it’s easy to do the math on the folk who died hanging from those gallows.

Twenty-four were men from… Read full post »

 1923

A pile of flesh and bandages lies on a stone floor.  Ragged breathing.  Clay is alive but just.

He wakes to find the note.  “Go to the yard.  Climb to freedom.  All is taken care of.”  It is signed, “a friend”.

He gives… Read full post »

1883

Sunday is ten and she finally has a name.  For a long time it was Sweetie, followed by Girlie and then, one day, she was Sunday.

They’ve been riding for a long time and the desert doesn't change.  She couldn't guess how her father knows when… Read full post »