Bicycle Money

This week’s Tuesday Tale:

Peter rolled out of bed and rubbed his eyes. He didn’t know it yet as he smoothed out his cowlicked hair, but today was a day he would remember for the rest of his life. He rushed downstairs and grabbed the slice of toast with jam his mother put out for him. When she told him to remember his manners, he muffled out a “thank you” between chews. She shook her head in disapproval, but was satisfied by his attempt. She could not be displeased with him, her ambitious nine year old rushing out the door for work as a newsboy. He was proud of his job and took it more seriously than she thought a boy of his age could, but Peter was always surprising her. His brothers weren’t half as mature as Peter, her middle child. He was ambitious, but quiet. She never doubted his ability, she just wished he would sit and finish his glass of milk before charging head first into the day. Continue reading

Foreign Affairs

This week’s Tuesday Tale :

Jeremy Wilcox never had reason to doubt his hearing, but after all the firefights he had lived through over here for this unending, ungodly war, he thought that maybe he could not rely on his ears as well as he once did. The war had taken its toll on Wilcox same as any other foot soldier. He only hoped he would make it home without a flag over his chest. From the looks of it, he might be getting his wish. Yesterday Wilcox’s regiment was given papers to return home. He didn’t have a clue whether that meant the war was over, even though that’s what the papers said. It was hard to believe the dirty thing had ended because he hadn’t seen the enemy go down. He had killed many a soldier, but who’s to say the enemy was defeated? Wilcox didn’t concern himself with politics except when he was drunk and in a foul humor, then he became a real lobbyist. He was sober now, at least he was pretty sure he was.

“What did you say?” Continue reading

To Desert Hope

This week’s Tuesday Tale:

Clark tugged the bandana higher on the bridge of his nose. The dust storm was generated from the thousand horse hooves galloping over the desert sands. They had been riding since sundown. Clark spurred his Arabian away from the sand spray to the edge of the pack. His horse was fluid and Clark was pleased with his choice. The dish faced animal did not portray the endurance it could withstand. Continue reading

The First World Series

This week’s Tuesday Tale:

Jill picked up her needles and yarn after turning on the television. Her husband enjoyed watching the ballgames. Jill could not care less. She didn’t even know who was playing. She liked being near him so over the years she learned to enjoy his company by sharing in the time in front of the television. She never looked up at the screen, she just stitched away. Continue reading