by Jim Stitzel | Sep 3, 2010 | Stories
He soared. He had always wanted to fly, and now he was doing just that. He had no feathers, no wings, but he was flying just the same. The special magic that fathers possessed had made this possible. He laughed with the euphoria of the moment. The wind blew his hair...
by Jim Stitzel | Aug 18, 2010 | Stories
In hindsight, Trista realized she probably shouldn’t have fallen asleep under that tree. – Pus dripped into Trista’s eyes from the multiple infected sores on her scalp. She wanted to wipe it away, but the tree held her fast, pinning her arms to her sides, arms...
by Jim Stitzel | Aug 18, 2010 | Stories
He works quickly, his deft hands flitting over the instruments with a skill that comes from a vast history of experience. He talks while he works. “You are my failure,” he says. “I blame only myself.” He sets one tool down on the tray, picking up the next. “I raised...
by Jim Stitzel | Aug 12, 2010 | Stories
He helped her up from the floor. She was bruised, bloody, and shaken. Whatever had happened here, it had been violent and traumatic. The room was a study in chaos. “You alright?” he asked. No response. Her gaze was distant, focused on something far from here. He tried...
by Jim Stitzel | Jul 25, 2010 | Stories
Lightning flashed, and the boys ran, pumping their legs as hard as they could. “Did you see that?” the first cried. “No, and neither did you! Keep running!” “I can’t,” came the reply. “I’ve got to stop for a sec.” They dropped behind a fallen log and sucked air in...