Six Openings
A Look Ahead at Waco Native
In the coming months, I will be releasing a brand new book called Waco Native that is composed of six stories. I’m sharing the opening paragraph of each of those stories today. They are a mixed bag when it comes to tone and style, but I hope that keeps readers on their toes. This is a collection that I am incredibly excited to share. More details to come. For now, here is a quick look at the intros to each story . . .
A Natural Death
He drove into the tunnel of light.
His foot was heavy not by choice but because he was losing consciousness with every passing moment. The truck bounced over the desert ground. There was no road, and he was guided only by a faint memory. The wound in his chest hissed. Blood soaked his shirt as if he’d been caught in a storm. In some ways, he had. A storm from hell. War. A battle of men fighting for ends they could not clearly see. He drove a hundred miles an hour beneath the quiet stars. A hundred miles an hour towards a place he hoped still existed.
Ferus
Gray light fell from the window onto the kitchen table. A plate of half-eaten toast and a jar of peach jelly were left from the night before. On the windowsill was a bundle of tied wildflowers in a vase next to a photo of Lita’s father working horses. In the far corner of the photo Lita was a blur, running wild. She looked more like a smudge or a misprint than a kid in the middle of the best days of her life. That was a long time ago, evidenced by the sepia photo now curled at the edges. He wore the simple white shirt and blue jeans that became a daily uniform for the last fifty years of his life.
Waco Native
Dear Henrik,
I arrived in Waco this morning and was met by the native guide procured through your support staff. I have, regretfully, forgotten the name of your immediate assistant, but she has done a great injustice to me that must be addressed without delay. I will cut right to the chase. I will pull no punches. She has intentionally sabotaged me. While this allegation may seem presumptuous on my part, I trust the forthcoming details of my experience will validate my claims. She has disliked me for some time, ever since we had a misunderstanding about the ordering of restroom signs for HQ. She has clearly taken it upon herself to enact retribution during this critical mission you have entrusted to me.
The Teacher
I awoke with a premonition that The Teacher was going to die.
I saw the helicopters circling our house and the soldiers slide down ropes onto the roof. They burst through windows, firing machine guns into Peter’s chest as he tried to organize the guards. His clothes became drenched in blood, but he continued to scream profanities, you federal dogs, you filthy federal dogs you’ll burn for what you’ve done, you filthy federal dogs. Then he fell against the wall and died sitting up.
XY / XX
He will have her body to himself,
not by force but by way of natural
selection, in him she will see power
protection goodness faith discipline
and this she will desire above all,
give yourself to me as I give to you,
a pouring of one cup into another
and the feast that follows, drink
over and over for the rest of your life.
A Place to Land
Rayanne sat at a beat up piano on the back porch smoking a cigarette and picking out a simple melody with her free hand. She didn’t know who decided to put a piano on a back porch, but she was glad they did. It gave her a sanctuary.
Scattered around the screened porch were white plastic chairs, ashtrays, and empty beer bottles. A few dead flowers drooped in a vase on top of the piano. She tried to keep up with watering but had forgotten lately.
The sliding door was open into the cabin.
She played soft enough so no one would hear.