I write because I read. I read because I write.
One. Two. Three. Four. His seven-decade-old hands hold tight on the rusting rails of his lightless room's window. His darkened eyes stare at the now fallen tree and then to the triumphant men who successfully defeated the lush pine. The lush pine planted and reared by his wife. His wife who died last month. He… Continue reading Four Bullets
Five decades after the war, I am now here to do your final request. It was never your intention to release those bombs. Chief said no one will be killed. But a week after you did your first mission, you read more than a thousand lives were shattered. It haunted you. Just five months after… Continue reading Two Wives
A Reading Writer 