Gregg Newby
Bio
Barefoot traveler, hunchbacked supplicant, mendicant poet, armless juggler. A figment in a raincoat.
Stories (9/0)
An Embarrassment
The first time Randy Banks got lucky in his car it left an indelible imprint. It lingered there on the ceiling and proved a constant embarrassment to him. You could look at it and tell right away what had happened. It was worse when you were in the passenger seat because then you had the uncomfortable knowledge it had happened right where you were sitting.
By Gregg Newby3 years ago in Fiction
The Church of the Marigold
A man, his girlfriend, and his son are on a road trip out of Memphis. It’s high summer and the father wants to get out of town for a bit. The three of them have headed east, moving along State Route 20, and have found themselves in Huntsville.
By Gregg Newby3 years ago in Fiction
Cut and Choose
It was the kind of gathering no one likes to attend. A private get-together for the bereaved. Most of them lived out of town now and needed a bite to eat before hitting the road again. Among the guests were the two daughters of the deceased, Susan and Lizzie. Susan had driven across the river from Arkansas, while Lizzie had come down from Memphis. They hadn’t spoken in a while.
By Gregg Newby3 years ago in Fiction
Soul of Oak
Word has come to me that I am to be demolished. Torn down. My beams and hinges are to be stacked and discarded. I only learned of it yesterday, when the developers stepped through my entryway. There was a cluster of them. All men. They seemed joyful at the thought of my destruction.
By Gregg Newby3 years ago in Fiction
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