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A tidbit of historical fiction—
Joe Simpson had followed the telephone lines from Rhyolite to Skidoo. The stopover at Stovepipe Wells had replenished his canteens but he was almost dead when he stumbled into the Gold Seal Saloon.
“It’s a good day for the devil,” he remarked to the bar-keep. “Here’s the last of my money, set me up with some brew, a room with a bath and a woman.”
In 1908 Skidoo, named after ...
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A tidbit of flash fiction to accompany my photos.
“How late can I order the Fish and Chips?”
“Four-thirty, but I’d check with Scott in the bar before you get settled. It’s a week night but they could run out,” answered Carla, the campground hostess, as she handed back my credit card. “I put you in spot 12 next to the Tim. He’s real quiet, you’ll hardly notice him.”
“Okay, thanks,” I said shoving the ...
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With coffee set to brew, I water the garden. Sunday, we had picnicked on the coast, fanned by a gentle breeze. Monday night the winds churned in crazy directions. Now Tuesday morning the sky is smoky-brown as I spray the plants. Soon, I would learn that Santa Rosa was on fire.
It’s hard to describe the reaction when a loud speaker atop a Sheriff’s car is demanding that you leave your home NOW. ...
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