Long time now since my old friends and I got together. Axe in one hand, maul in the other, oak block on end, the thwack, clang and again, again until the wood gives up and lays open ready to light. As in life so in this. Strike and don’t miss. ♠
My grandfather got them so they say, so bad he sat in his chair motionless, sweat dripping from his face, his hands gripping the arms of the chair, his feet planted on the floor, the veins of his neck keeping time with the pain until it passed, until the horrible presence went away, knowing it…
“It’s like this,” he said. He said it real slow. Then he said, “Pass me that bottle.” The bottle held rye, a nice drink. Smooth and savory from single grain. He drank, but not too much, just a sip clean and neat. Then he put the glass down. The glass he’d poured into, his favorite…
“I remember,” he said. “Yeah, I remember.” He leaned into the engine compartment of his old pickup. By old we’re talking decades, a 1985 model now well into the twenty first century. That’s old. Trouble started with the misfiring of a couple cylinders. He didn’t know how many. He didn’t know which ones, but he…
