Fiction at Courage, my friend

A letter to an unwanted suitor

Chris — Thu, 09 Jun 2011 00:57:31 +0000

You

Chris — Sat, 24 Jul 2010 20:35:14 +0000

You wipe your hand on your pants, the blood warm and sticky, a moment ago fear and heartache, now only repugnance. You raise your hand to your mouth and kiss the inside of your thumb, then reach across and touch it to his forehead, then, as if you might still hurt him, ever so gently draw shut his eyes. Beside you, your gun waits, expectant. You reach for it, and find the fury blossoming in your heart mirrored there in [...]

Unity

Chris — Fri, 23 Apr 2010 09:59:54 +0000

“Godsdammit, Hayden—will you watch where you’re stepping!” I stumble back from his anger and drop my gaze to the forest floor, where Jochen is rubbing his left hand and scowling at me. There’s mud on two fingers of his glove. “Sorry,” I mutter and shake my head. “I guess I wasn’t paying attention.” “Yeah, no shite,” he growls again, before turning away—back to the ground. He returns his right hand to his spear and leans forward over an entirely unremarkable [...]

The End?

Chris — Mon, 12 Apr 2010 16:58:42 +0000

Hi all, Well, it’s been a year, and I think I have to admit to myself, and to all of you, that I’m totally blocked on Winter Rain, and that it doesn’t look to be changing. At this point, I don’t honestly know that I will ever finish it. This saddens me, but, unfortunately, it’s the way it is for now. Anna and I have been talking about ways of getting me unblocked, and, with her help, I’m going to [...]

Winter Rain, part 70

Chris — Mon, 09 Mar 2009 11:41:44 +0000

The night grows suddenly brighter and Garvey snaps upright at the sound of the kitchen door banging open. It slams shut again, hard, as I turn. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Brennan shouts. Garvey leaps to his feet, snarling, and I grab at him to pull him back. A shock of pain rolls through my head, and I cringe away from it. Brennan freezes, just out of Garvey’s range. “Please lower your voice,” I plead. “Or what,” he [...]

Winter Rain, part 69

Chris — Wed, 04 Mar 2009 00:43:57 +0000

Chapter 7 The small shed is well-hidden in bushes—much further from the house than I’d expected—and the light is failing quickly. Maybe I should have carried my clothes back and dressed with Torrin—these eyes and this light . . . . Yeah, and likely passed out. Idiot. Anyway, Garvey seems to know the way. Something tall and dark moves away from the shed as we approach. Torrin, I hope. There’s a rattling sound, and suddenly there’s light on the ground. “Always good to have [...]

Winter Rain, part 68

Chris — Mon, 23 Feb 2009 04:25:50 +0000

He’s older than I’d expected—black hair, now mostly grey, and a weathered face. Mid-fifties, maybe. Neck down, though, he could be me, ten years older. Garvey tries to lick at my hands again, but I pull them behind me, out of his reach. There’s no way around it: what I’ve done is inexcusable, and Faolan’s going to kill me, when he finds out. If Torrin doesn’t do it first. The whiskey hasn’t worn off much, and my brain feels as [...]

Winter Rain, part 67

Chris — Mon, 16 Feb 2009 11:58:53 +0000

The baying of dogs chases me from dream into waking and I snap my eyes open to fading twilight, but too late. They’re closing from all sides—nearly a dozen of them, from the sound—and only seconds away. And I’m alone—Garvey is nowhere to be seen. I haul myself to my feet, my back scraping against the tree as I rise, and cast about for a way out, but to no avail: from every direction, I can hear them crashing through [...]

Winter Rain, part 66

Chris — Tue, 10 Feb 2009 08:13:32 +0000

I run harder, tearing the soil with each step, spraying little chunks of the dark black earth and old leaves into the air behind. I hear them smack wetly into tree trunks, onto dead leaves. Behind. That son of a bitch. That mother FUCKING SON OF A BITCH! Who the FUCK does he think he is? I bank hard around a tree, and then another, down, toward the river, toward the wet-smelling air. There should be a steep climb on [...]

Winter Rain, part 65

Chris — Sun, 01 Feb 2009 23:51:16 +0000

“How long have we been waiting?” Keely whines, turning from the large window. Brennan scowls at her from his post by the door. “I don’t know . . . ” I reply, with a little more edge than I’d intended—I soften my tone—”three minutes longer than the last time you asked?” She drops her gaze. But I’m not really annoyed at her. It has been nearly an hour since we arrived, and it’s going to be sundown soon. Where the fuck is Torrin? Keely [...]