The Hurt House

  It belonged to me, partly, for a short time.  The image above, of it reduced to a smoldering heap, atop its cinder block foundation, should make me sad, but doesn't.  Although I sympathize with its current settlers, displaced and robbed of their belongings, I'm glad it's gone.  If I'd been notified while it was a blaze, I…

Bully’s Little Girl

Displaced from a second failed marriage, I slinked back to my parents' home, with two sons, taking a front row seat to Tony's distress and ultimate decease on New Year's Eve night of that year.  The holidays tiptoed in the background, outshone by his demise. Contrary to previous anticipations, I didn't revel in the spectacle.…

Bully Bested

His friends called him 'Port'. He stood a big man, massive in comparison to us as children.  Calves, the size of footballs, carried the load of his muscular frame and well hydrated beer belly, hidden underneath a thick mane of wavy grey hair, worn long, beneath a greasy, frayed ball cap.  For spring, summer and fall he…