His wife sat next to him on the porch. Out of the corner of her sight she watched him breathe like a man in the middle of a heavy labour. She’d see him stand up and look down the road and say ‘Alright boys, time to go.’ every time he heard an engine, or what
All posts by Buffy
“You haven’t lived until you’ve been to a Piggly Wiggly. And that’s all I have to say about that!” ——- On the night Cosby Puckett was murdered most of the town – and all of the Bean Boarding House – were bunched up in a brush arbor down by the river waiting for Brother Ernst
This short has been getting a lot of play time around the house lately – since my sister-in-law urged every one to “Vote for Maybe One Day by Chris Cottam” because “It’s great. And he is my lovely friend.” Well, we did. And, it is. Beautiful. Really. Everything from the lighting to the writing. Especially
All things fade and quickly turn to myth; quickly too utter oblivion drowns them. But what in any case is everlasting memory? Utter emptiness.
He died. Five years ago. I still can’t say his name, or hear it said, without losing my breath. Without feeling like someone has set their lips to mine and sucked all the air from me. Forcibly. It hurts. A real physical pain. And reminds me, every time, of Giles Corey. Crushed to death. Beneath
“Flannery O’Connor’s fiction also explores this distinctly Southern paradox through the symbol of the “old child”. Like Faulkner, she creates child characters who are disillusioned by the inactivity and lack of belief in their parent’s generation and subsequently construct their identity on the model of an elderly figure, only to suffer a tug of loyalties
I can’t remember the first book trailer I saw. But I know it was in late 2005/early 2006 – and consisted of a series of quirky photos set to music and subtitles with a note on the end that went something like Coming in May 2006. Well, they kept coming and these days some rival
In the U.S. Mother’s Day had it’s origin in West Virginia. Did you know that? The modern Mother’s Day holiday was created by Anna Jarvis of Grafton, West Virginia, as a day to honor mothers and motherhood. Growing up, I must have seen this photo before. But I don’t remember it – the way only
The Guardian asks you to write the first 150 words of a novel for the chance to win a hotel stay in London with Orange award ceremony tickets, books and a Blackberry The Guardian has teamed with Kate Mosse, the author of Labyrinth and co-founder and honorary director of the Orange prize, to offer budding
His eyes, grey and wet like the belly of a fish, rolled back and forth in their place with every other breath he took. Once in a while he’d shake his head and let out a ‘wheeeeww’. A long kind of exhausted sigh that seemed to say this is the awfullest sort of work I’ve
I’ve always wondered about the man’s mannerisms. This doesn’t quite satisfy that curiosity but it’s more than I ever thought I’d see. True, I’ve had a vague but incessant obsession with the lettered curmudgeon since reading Innocents Abroad some time back in the 90’s, but I can’t be alone in finding this little piece of
