The Game
“What we won’t do for ourselves, we will do for our children.” The leeches were cold, wet, and repugnant against Kate’s lower left jaw and lip. Gnarled fingers gently probed the swollen and bruised area around them. “Just a bit more.” Agnes’ voice sounded as if an old bullfrog was buried deep down in her sagging chest. “You know girl, there are lines in life and there are circles.” Turning around she stoked the fire, “Lines are things like knitting a sweater or aging–definite beginning and end. You are in a circle, not a good one either. Needs to be
Eddie
Marlborough Mass, 1932 Marc Amlaw did many things which his mother lit a candle for every week and for a good reason, but as far as his little sister was concerned, he took no prisoners and felt no guilt. No one was good enough for her - especially Eddie. Slamming the car door in front of his buddy’s home with its peeling paint, the yard littered with miscellaneous auto parts, furniture and only God knew what else hid among the tall grass and unkept gardens. Most would take it to mean that Eddie needed a wife, or had given up
Purple Hearts & Pink Ribbons
He stood in front of the full-length mirror in his late mother’s bathroom. His body held souvenirs from his life: shrapnel scars faded pink from his first tour in the mountains, a knife wound white and jagged from a high school fight, and the mutilation from his stepfather’s belt buckle. He had hated it the most. Had wished it away from the time he received it, but it and the leg were left behind with the second tour – a victim of a roadside bomb. The missing limb - a shocking reminder of sins he did in the name