Curtis Glide, a student of people, satisfied with his findings of them as “passable'” Even as a millionaire, the gained acceptance came as encouraging to where the heroes show themselves in a hurry, lest they lose the gain.
Continue reading “All-Souls Hangout by Tom Sheehan”
“Dad! Dad! Are we there yet? Are we?”
“No.”
“But we’ve been driving for-EVER!”
“Quiet back there!”
Frida held her breath. Jack looked up in the rear-view mirror. “What are you doing?” He turned to Hanna. “What is she doing?”
Hanna turned around. “Are you holding your breath to be quiet?” Frida nodded her head enthusiastically. Hanna held out her hand and gave Frida a high-five. “I’m also going to hold my breath. We can’t disturb Jack!”
“Alright, ladies. I get it. Should I turn on the radio? Will some music make you happy, honey?”
…at an age of seventy-five. We celebrate his memory with a song Robert Broberg crafted in 1967. Here it is. The classic; ‘The Boat Song’.
One of the sailboats said, to the other that, you are lovely,
we should be boarding in hand, courting far from land,
sailing off unmanned, like only sailboats can,
Bada-bam-bam-bam-bam, bada-bam-bam-bam-bam…
I remember sneaking into the old Saunders house with my older sister. The trees twisted into positions which during the night cast shadows, which still haunt me in my dreams. It was silly, but great fun. We were discoverers of occult. Patrons of good, as Father Hope called us. I miss him. Father Geary is stern and never lets anything go. He forced Jane to grow up too fast. Twenty years old and already mother of two and married to Hank. Hank ‘wooden-face’ Edison.
I still visit the Saunders house. I won’t get in trouble for going into the yard any more, but I still sneak, pretend that the shadows are moving in the moonlight. When Will and Joey are older we can play there. Hopefully I won’t be too old.
Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. I’m a string tied too tight on a harp close to breaking; the tired glow left after a flame; the last paint on the brush colouring the wall of my life and I look to you. Against you I’ve sinned and done what pains your eyes. Lord, turn your face away from my sins but don’t deny me your face or take away the Holy Spirit. Questions and lack of answers have plagued me in a lifetime lived in your honour. However, a lifelong devotion is outweighed by a single misstep. The path to salvation is through you and your son. A kind eye towards friends and foes are not the path; only the submission to your glory is. Continue reading “Pater Noster by Tobias Haglund”
literally stories 