Standing alone in front of a mirror – are you truly alone? Is your reflection one-dimensional or does it include unseen things like hidden intentions and unspoken thoughts? Sandy Tillman would confess to just how much more than reflections are possible, even up to the point of death.
Category: Short Stories
What do you do when your body has been invaded by a spirit from over a century ago? Royalty or not…harmful or not…it’s hard to ignore much less believe.
There comes a time in one’s life when you have to look into the mirror and not just see the familiarity of the reflection that stares back at you. There comes a time when one really has to look into those familiar eyes and beyond the blackness of your pupils to really see the life […]
I called myself a Christian, and I lived peacefully among Christians, but I also lived a secret life. I counted myself as a good provider for my wife and kids, was a highly rated and respected professional in my work field. Those things were in one life, and I split time with them and my secret life. My “deceptions” were a blind spot because I justified everything. I justified with the prowess of a practiced addict.
This has been a risky piece to write, but confessions are that way. I fully anticipate judgments to come from my words here, but it is okay – I have the comfort of knowing which judgment matters and Who makes it.
It was Friday afternoon when my son and I were returning home from the video store, part of a typical pre-weekend routine. My attention shifted automatically toward a little green house along McKee Road. The house was small and sat on a patch of farmland that had not yet succumbed to the advance of the city. The large trees provided shade and seemed to stand guard over the house. My eyes searched the porch for him, but he was not there. His chair was there, but he in his denim overalls, his hat, and his wave were not. He had not been there for almost two weeks. Along with him, part of me was missing.
Saturday mornings had become something of a ritual in our family, not out of habit or tradition, but out of expectation. Since my wife’s job required working on weekends, more often than not, I had the job to orchestrate The Feed. Our morning offered a special time to bond as we experienced the routine of […]
Categories
My Last Battle
The look on my face told a story she was not a part of, and she shook her head and looked at me as if I had lost my mind. I recovered quickly as the sensations passed. She quietly suggested we take a detour and follow a different path into the shade of the woods to get out of the growing heat. I agreed and we took a natural looking path into the woods. Turns out weird was there too.
We were following what had been an old roadbed where Confederate soldiers and supplies made their way toward high ground and onto the battlefield. Chalk it up to imagination again, but I heard horses snorting and straining against the jangle of tackle and the squeak of leather harnesses. No voices, just straining horses and hooves pulling cannon, caisson, and supplies of war.
I stopped and turned to my wife and said, “So I guess you aren’t hearing any of this either.”
Categories
Popcorn Wars
I blatantly ignored the Science Fair pledge and applied the full power of every available technology to demonstrate my “son’s” hypothesis. You could say I bulldozed through “his” project. All of that was done on a 2-foot by 4-foot board. All that was done — only to lose the entire competition. None of it could have been done by a fifth grader. “Our” project did not just lose, it was in the way.
The story surrounding that project could only be written as either a dark mini-series or a tragic novel. I would not want to revisit that nightmare to accomplish either one. I pledged to my wife that I would never get that involved again. I kept my word for months…mainly because it was months before the project’s due date. Urgency hovered at low tide. It was either low tide of that shrinking tide just before a tsunami rolls in. Not sure, but I do not want to get ahead of myself…
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The Thickness of Relationship
Is every castaway someone marooned on a deserted island? It is the first image that comes to mind for me; however one can be a castaway who has been cast away in the midst of a thriving population. This circumstance can be precursor to depression if not addressed by finding and maintaining meaningful relationships with the Spirit and others more worldly. Both are essential to remain whole.