Phil

Today is December 1, 1950. My birthday. I am now twenty-four years old. There’s been difficulty getting mail in what with the cold. Thirty below some nights, or so they say. Haven’t heard from Genevieve in weeks. No more, “Dearest Phil,” “My Love Phil,” “Sweetest Phil.” Nothing but the blinding cold here in this godforsaken place, this Chosin Reservoir. They call us The Chosin Few. … Continue reading Phil

Drew

I’m on fire watch. It’s Fort Benning hot, humid, clouds of fly sex every five feet you walk. The barracks are quiet, everyone asleep, and I’m thinking of what to say. Mom tells me PGN is sick. She doesn’t want to say too much, but I can tell it’s bad. They keep moving his room in the hospital. It’s hard to get a hold of … Continue reading Drew

Mona

It’s a quarter to two and Waldo gets home at three. Roger’s not back till six, and who knows when Drew will come home. There’s still time. The soaps are on, and there’s a funny word. Soap, like days when PGN would catch me swearing and wash my mouth out, it turning everything to itself the way tofu does, only soap milk or soap bread … Continue reading Mona

The End

View this post on Instagram Until you can type these two words, keep going. No matter how long it takes, no matter how hard it is, keep going. I've spent four years on Here's Waldo so far, and in that time I've gotten five short stories published that were either based on or related to that novel. You can do it. You have it in … Continue reading The End