Mitchell Womack

Mitchell Womack wasn’t a tall man. It was surprising, really. His father had been large and his mother was a veritable giant at just over six feet. His younger brother, Colin, played center for a university basketball team. But Mitchell was much smaller, the runt of the litter. Things never seemed to be in his reach. Continue reading



The uncut wheat rippled in the wind, the waves of a golden ocean washing upon a shoreline of trees. A man could almost drown in those waves. The sky was awake, clouds racing to meet the horizon, carried by strong gusts, the same gusts that made smoking nearly impossible for the man in the plaid jacket. He flicked at his lighter, attempted to shield the flame with his smooth hands, and gave up once again, cursing with the impunity of someone who knows they are entirely alone. Continue reading

Time for a Change

Despite my ever-present, often debilitating fear of change, I’ve decided to do something new with this blog. Although I think the problems of life need to be written about directly, as I’ve been doing for a while now, there is so much value in the art of subtlety.

So, for the next several weeks — or perhaps longer — I will be posting pieces that are stories. Simple stories. Stories about people. Continue reading

The End

The end — the words that follow the conclusion of many books. Sometimes we’re glad to read them because the writer found the perfect ending, one that leaves us teary eyed with happiness.

Or perhaps, in a rather different scenario, we’re just glad that the book is finally over, only having finished it because we hate abandoning a project halfway through Continue reading