The blood in my dad’s beard hardly looked real, more red-orange than ruddy, almost clown-like, but terrifying when he stretched his neck tendons and tightened his jaw, his eyes rolling like an animal in distress to show a lot of white, a panicked horse or rabid dog. 640 more words
Tags » Creative Nonfiction
CASE 9: JOHNNY’S GONE MAD AGAIN
By the late 1800s, Newcastle was trading with San Francisco, South America and Europe and the port’s internationalism made it a volatile, if predictable, crime locus for drunken fighting, standover gangs, escaping convicts, prostitution and shanghaiing. 5,368 more words
Greetings, my friends!
Yes, I’m thrilled to announce I’m finally delivering my baby to my publisher, but it’s not a human baby. For starters, I take lithium & a MAOI, so I’m done with all that. 1,406 more words