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Mark Wm Smith
An overeducated, blue-collar cowboy, I grew up on along the banks of the Yellowstone River in Eastern Montana. Raised by a long haul trucker and a bartending waitress, I learned the hard ways of the modern frontier, scraping life from the unforgiving high chaparral.
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The Last Winter of 2000
Beginnings are impossible. I’ve been starting the author game for 20-plus years. It rarely appears as work in progress. Fits and starts. That’s my record. Fits lead to starts/restarts lead to fits, ad nauseam. Time to stop beginning and advance. Accept my invitation…
MGC Chapter Forty-Nine
Ksanka Dreams “Maybe we go in easy on this,” Tony said, as he followed me through the picket fence and past the Matchbox sales lot. “We don’t have enough time for that,” I replied. My thoughts were fully on catching Lorna off guard with a wild allegation, in hopes of…
MGC Chapter Forty-Eight
Kayla Bait I crossed the threshold into the diner into a permeating chill. Warmth and coziness had been swapped with cool mistrust. Aromas of fried food made the air thick with an odor of cruelty. Vacant stools and booths were devoid of the cackle and mirth that…
MGC Chapter Forty-Seven
Pass Renée Vicky’s arguments banged around in my head, busting up logic and reason, until they jolted loose a plan to visit my sister at the jail. Tony climbed into the Tacoma and curled his lips into a rueful smile. “Great idea,” he said with a snort, “if you can…