Richard Frohm
Bio
Writing is my passion. My hope is you find enjoyment in my stories and follow me as my journey to become a better writer continues.
Stories (23/0)
Miracle at Twenty thousand Feet
STANDING, LEFT TO RIGHT: Staff Sgt. Jack Flynn, top turret gunner; Sgt. Douglas Aldrich, waist gunner; Sgt. Charles Agnatovich, ball turret gunner; Sgt. Anthony DeMarco, radio operator; Sgt. John Lafferty, waist gunner; Sgt. Ralph Corning, tail gunner.
By Richard Frohm3 years ago in Serve
Finally Coming Home
Monday, I hated that day. Especially, a snowy, freezing, miserable December day in Michigan. As I made my way to our break room, I heard the usual. “Morning LT, Morning Lieutenant Flynn, nice day isn’t it LT?” My people loved to aggravate me. All of them knew until I had my first cup of coffee, I hated to talk. I went into our break room and grabbed a coffee mug and poured a cup of the Elixir of the Gods. I just took my first sip when I was interrupted by Detective Ellen Johnson.
By Richard Frohm3 years ago in Fiction
My Guardian Angel's Cross
Since I was very young, I was taught each of us had a guardian angel. They were there to protect and guide us. During my life, I know there were times mine came to my aide. I never let a night go by without thanking God for my guardian angel. I also asked that one day I be allowed to meet him to say thank you.
By Richard Frohm3 years ago in Fiction
Armageddon
I stood atop the destroyed U.S. Capitol building. Lying in the rubble under my foot was a calendar opened to July, with the 4th circled. I picked it up and threw it into the wind watching it blow across a city that had been flattened to piles of rubble. No building was untouched by the blast. Standing there I began crying, unable to comprehend what laid before me. Washington had been my home for most of my life. Thoughts of friends and people I worked with made me cry even harder. I hoped they were not in the city when it happened. As I dried my tears, I saw groups of survivors picking through the rubble. Some searching for their loved ones. While others were looking for food. Gunshots could be heard off in the distance. Most likely from a group that preyed upon the weak. Taking anything of value they had with them. Killing those that resisted.
By Richard Frohm3 years ago in Fiction
Hannah's Cottage
As I looked out from our kitchen window, I saw the rain had stopped, and the clouds had begun to make way for the sun. The tea kettle began to whistle just as I finished buttering my cinnamon muffin. Sitting next to me, waiting for any crumbs to fall, was my little girl Kerry, our chocolate lab. "Sorry, girl, no crumbs today. You know your mom has been on me about my messes in the kitchen." Her tail started wagging, and she gazed at me with those big brown eyes. "You are just like your mother. I cannot say no to her either, when she looks at me with her deep green eyes."
By Richard Frohm3 years ago in Marriage
The Four hundred Dollar GI Joe
Let me start by saying I am a sixty-six-year-old male. That is still a ten-year-old at heart. Growing up, all of my friends and I had GI Joe action figures. Apparently, the manufacturer knew boys would not want to call their GI Joe's dolls. We had a hard time arguing with our friend's sisters that they were not "dolls." They were "action figures."
By Richard Frohm3 years ago in Families
Maybe It's Fate?
I sat on the edge of my bed, tightly clutching a picture of my wife. Tears began slowly running down my cheeks, I started to sob. Hannah was my world, the only love I had ever known. It was eight years earlier that very night, she gave me one last kiss and softly whispered in my ear, "I love you." Hannah closed her eyes as I held her tightly in my arms. I felt her life slipping away from me. Her fierce and long battle with cancer was finally over. Our Hannah would no longer suffer. For that, I gave thanks. But for our children and myself, the pain and suffering of her loss would always be with us. As I stared at her picture, my heart ached, and the tears flowed like a river down my face. My sobbing became uncontrollable. Although eight years had passed. The pain of her loss had not eased for me.
By Richard Frohm3 years ago in Humans
I Can Do It
I was a volunteer with St. Vincent de Paul in Phoenix, Arizona, for several years before recently moving. They are a charitable organization located in Phoenix and throughout the United States and other parts of the world. St. Vincent de Paul provides food, financial assistance, and other forms of help to those in need.
By Richard Frohm3 years ago in Families
