Writing is a hobby of mine, only a hobby. There are so many perfessionals out there, I'd rather keep the joy in the hobby than compete as a professional.
From Dust, to Dust
The first touch of autumn was soft in its approach, the smell of sun burnt leaves and a coolness foreign to the dust covered man. Remembering the date, midway through the month of August, made the realization of the changing season more accepting. He affixed his hat on his mop of hair to better fight the growing wind. The dust here, same as one hundred southern miles, had been passed back and forth between the latitudes so long it no longer could call a single square mile its home.
For the Birds
Maybe I should not have come alone Henry thought as he crested the steep rockface. This section of the trail was the most dangerous with the price of a mistaken step being a fall of a few hundred feet. Practiced, with the luck of inherent talent, Henry assumed this “advanced” five-mile trail he found online would be nice change from the normal rock climbing he enjoyed.
Of Dragoons and Noordith
The first memory of every Dragoon is how they die. It has been the curse of the Dragoon clan since the fall hundreds of years ago, and the meaning of such incantation lost to time. When Derolth received his ominous foresight, and his wings were clipped as is tradition, the final fire of the clan was lit.
Lance was there. Bullets were flying over and into the rock formation being used as cover. The no-named band of horse thieves had set up a hasty ambush when Lance Hartingway and Jebadiah Lowrance were gaining on their trial. The two Texas Rangers had been tracking them west from San Antonio for a week when they were finally close enough to apprehend them. That’s when they started shooting.
Shoot for the Stars
I woke up in darkness so pure I couldn’t tell the difference between having my eyes open or closed. I could tell, as my mind became self-aware again, that I was moving somehow. A gentle rocking threatened to take me back into the rest I was trying to climb out of. Slowly, like I was defrosting, I began to move my head back and forth to try and find some light from my surroundings.
The Day I Left
The day I left the Guardian Angels, when I hung up the uniform for the last time, was a surprise to many. In a lot of ways, I’ve been very lucky in my work as a Pararescueman. PJ for short. I’ve seen action around the world, often in the warzones that captured the minds of many in the short attention span the normal person possesses these days. From the end of the GWOT, to the Taiwan “situation” that the leaders of our country never seemed to realize was, in fact, more than just a “situation”. Natural disasters, war, civil unrest foreign and domestic, even some that I can’t talk about, you name the mission, I probably went on it. At least it seems like it.
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. It was not the first time this cabin had been occupied. Those passing through the area, vagrants, cowboys, or traveler would see this cabin, unoccupied and structurally sound, and occupy it for a night out of the elements. No one would blame them, but no one stopped them either, which was a shame from time to time.