Family man, grandfather, retired soldier and story teller with an edge.
Some feelings revive only in fleeting dreams of youth, pounding across consciousness as waves crash on wet sand, a sensation
By John Cox2 years ago in Poets
The suspect sat at a small interview table in hand cuffs, his matted hair and tangled beard making him look a decade older than he really was. But the vacant gaze and the dark circles under his eyes magnified the sense of exhaustion and failure emanating from his grizzled features.
By John Cox3 years ago in Criminal
The garden shimmered like a forgotten dream, the water lilies beckoning to the bronze girl poised to step from her tiny pedestal into the rippling waters. The light cascaded about me like an absolution from heaven, the hope that led me here balanced precariously atop the fear that the woman with the white carnation would never arrive.
By John Cox3 years ago in Humans
Spying a mouse scurrying along a wall, the barn owl lifted his wings and launched silently into the night air, flying arrow-true to the empty space where he and the quarry should soon converge. But at the last possible moment, the mouse dove into a hole in the wall as the owl’s talons closed and he coughed in frustration.
By John Cox3 years ago in Families