From Sessions in the Balcony: Phone Fun

She answered the phone with the soft raspy voice of a woman sleeping alone.  The light in her bedroom was off and all was dark, but the beam from the red numbers on her alarm clock gave a tinted glow across her night stand where the telephone rang.

She answered, “Hello,” with an unsure voice.
“Did I wake you,” he asked.
She cleared her throat. “What time is it?”

He informed, Continue reading

When The Change Began


After the long, uncomfortable hours in the precinct with angry desk cops and detectives, and after the questions that came while being handcuffed to the side of a gray-painted steel desk in a small detective’s office—after the yelling cops screamed, “Tell us what you did,” and after the detectives smacked me around, beat me, and played their version of good cop/bad cop; after the several rounds of different accusations and the phone call home to alert my parents of my arrest, the alcohol in my system gave way to the sobering moment that I was caught. I sitting behind a chain-linked fence on a wooden bench with my left wrist handcuffed to a pipe that ran beneath the seating.

After the hours of processing, and the trip to a holding facility where I went through the normal Continue reading

About a Boy

Sean stood a little more than five feet tall. His hair was shaved close to the scalp and his eyebrows were thick and dark. He had blue eyes. They were the wild kind. Sean’s eyes were the kind that explained his lack of sanity could arrive at any moment, and if prompted, Sean could switch his temper like the flick of a matchstick.
Sean had a large nose, which had been broken several times. Most of those times were from his alcoholic father during a drinking binge. Sean had three scars on the back of his head from different street fights. He had a thick scar that came from a gash, which began Continue reading

Letters from a Son: A Change in Direction

I remember there was snow on the ground. Outside was the kind of cold where the sky was perfectly blue and the sun was so bright, but yet, there was no warmth in the wind. I sat on the second level in the main house of a farm where kids like me lived.  To explain what I mean by kids like me, I mean kids that needed to get away from a troubled life of drug addiction.

The view from the windows was spectacular. I could see out into the distance as large, tree covered mountains wove together and interlocked like fingers from the hands. The trees were without leaves and the branches were crystalized and white with frost. There was a blanket of snow that covered the field behind the tall red barn. The cows were close to the barn. As always, the pigs were inside, grunting in their pens and the sheep scampered in a flock upon the hill behind the main house. Continue reading