Pompeii seemed like a paradise to Father when we moved here from Rome two years ago. I was named Petrus from a friend who was crucified. Someone apparently mistook him for the heretic who founded the sect called Christianity.
Tag Archives: short stories
Writings Update
My loyal fans I’m giving you an update on my writings thus far. I’m slowly making progress on my African American cowboy western, Nate Turner. He’s done the runaway slave, worked as a stevedore at a Cincinnati dock ….
The Confession
“Forgive me father for I have sinned,” Joey Maccoullah, told the elderly priest in the confessional while crossing himself reverently. “It has been several years since I confessed my sins to you and to God, though I’m certain, He knows.”
Effects
I’m tired of reporting about mass shootings of innocent people. I mean, anymore we all have become numb to this madness. Politicians either don’t or can’t do anything about this. Obviously, they are weak old men and women who rather put out press releases and promising something must be down someday.
A Knight Crime
Johnny Knight had a serious drug habit. A habit so bad it cost him his acting career. Twelve years after he starred in a successful television comedy, he presumably had his life turned around.
Roads From Tennessee: Final Day
He appeared happy and thanked me. I then gave Terry, Greg’s wife a hug and went to the pickup, threw my suitcase and laptop inside and we were off to Memphis to fly back to Spokane. The road trip back was …
Roads From Tennessee: Day 6
It’s a Baptist church in Corinth, Mississippi. It’s a large building that Greg informed me could hold well over a thousand worshippers. We parked nearby and Terry got onto a wheelchair that Greg provided her from the back area of the Kia SUV she had bought a while back.
Book Review
In Schellhammer’s novel, an elderly serial killer chronicles an alarming string of murders he’s committed over the course of decades.
Crapped Out
Bob had no idea what town this was that they stopped in front of a building whose lights and neon flashed and buzzed like a swarm of bees. He looked at the site, staring at it, willing it to disappear as snow fell steadily. The sign showing “Treasure Island Resort and Casino” appeared like a siren call.
Once Was Lost
Bob couldn’t remember the last time he ate. He also didn’t remember the last time he slept. Though he stayed in the hotel suite, he was fed mostly meth and bath salts, turning, and merging his hallucinations with reality to where he didn’t recognize what was real and what was a fantasy created inside his head.
Jerry Schellhammer 