John Lennon tells me these things, and it’s possible that John is the devil. I can tell by the way he stares out so intently from the poster.
It took us close to an hour, but I managed to knock the bat to the floor with the broom, causing a slapping sound that made my stomach tighten. Emily covered the animal with an upside-down garbage bin, which I then pushed, slowly, out the door and onto the side porch. We heard the bat… Continue reading “Brick” by William Bradley
I can't say I'm proud he didn't shoot, because I don't know why he didn't shoot. Was it hesitation, fear, compassion, the ten commandments? Something else?