“Thou art my beloved Son; with thee I am well pleased.” Even Jesus craved his Father’s approval, never mind that meeting expectations required getting nailed ...

Mesha descended the stairs, careful not to slip on the hardwood. In his jetlagged daze he could feel the mystical silence of the morning sunshine ...

Photo Credit: Charles Rattray He wonders whether it was the child or the old man in him that led him to do it, or whether it ...

Photo Credit: Mark Gallacher. 1967–1991 You’ve been talking again. What about? The past. It’s all I’ve got. Anyway. Aren’t the dying allowed to rant? * Thursday nights, we played table ...

The fire progressed steadily through the tall pines and up the long valley in the Sawtooth mountains north of Boise. All but one of the ...

Puddles reflected car lights like winking windows. Adriana scurried through the rain, looking for the address of the agency. When she found it, she sheltered ...

The Welcome I hold my mother’s hands in mine, her skin coarse, fingers thicker than I remember them. She still manicures her nails, the bright colour ...