sojourn

thanks

Ok, I am waiting. I got wrapped up in the story. it is very good.... When he said, I think it was ... God quit listening somewhere between torching and town and strangling a clown. In my mind strangling a clown became the equivalent of perhaps "squashing an angel"..... I laughed... right in the middle... I laughed. Near the end, huh? What a long strange trip it's been. more please

Hey, glad to see you made it. Want to see you posting here soon. and thanks again for the kind words.

Bill had taken a step back. His body became rigid, his fist clinched. Through gritted teeth he repeated, “I’m queer.” His eyes were watching. His body ready for the attack he was certain would come. I turned my back and moved to the tailgate. My feet could find no comfort on this gravel. Bill figured I was leaving. He stooped to strap on his duffle bag. When he heard me lower the tailgate, he stepped away from his bag. He resumed his defensive posture. I guess he thought I was retrieving a

thanks, I am wonderwing why this particular stoy has garnered such attention. too like these guys. They and good but flawed men. Thanks.

Thanks, I am working on it right now... well not right now. Right now i'm answering this reveiw. But I was working on it and I will be working on it as soon as I post this response.

even were it the worst most pathetic excuse for an ending... I would end it. I hate reading a story only to find it is orphaned... thank you.

The rest of the ride home was spent complaining about army life. I explained that everything I got issued was a holdover from World War II. At least he was given newer uniform items. We finally did agree that the Army chow hadn’t changed. I told him I actually missed S.O.S. It was actually chipped beef in a cream sauce. Usually served over home-style biscuits or toast. Soldiers referred to it either lovingly or disparagingly as, “S.O.S… Shit on a Shingle”. “You’re in luck Bill, I picked up

Your age and mine are showing. Thanks for the kind words. I think is worth tellin in it's own right.Both these guys have found a connection...

Thanks, I like these guys too. Glad you liked it.

thanks, this is my first story. Not yet Doc was a lighthearted break from one of the more morose scenes in Gordy... so know what you mean about tissue. Glad it entertained you.

thanks, it is to be continued. Soon neither will be able to say that.

When it comes to making me feel good about my story... you hit all the right chords. I have not seen many comments here. On nifty the emails had a lot of similar comments. You are not the only who shed a tear or two.... Someone suggested I put a "Kleenex alert". Glad you enjoyed it.

“I’m going to tell you this because you insist. Pay attention. You know I don’t like to repeat myself. Get comfortable this may take a bit. Oh, what the hell do I care if you are comfortable or not, this was your idea, you asked for it, so park it. Just sit your ass down.” 　 In those days, I didn’t get many visitors. A county-maintained gravel road doesn’t encourage local travel let alone tourists. I had to fight to keep them from paving it. I don’t like people. The only human I had se

A lonely recluse trys to help a troubled hitchinker learn the truth about himself. In the process he becomes confused. Ah what fools these mortas...

I don't know if it was a short chapter... or I just read it too fast. It was exciting. more please I am patiently waiting for the tatoo....

LOL a triangle or a thr..... never mind. Billy Joel says "only the good die young". Have a feeling that may shock a few more readers. Don't think many people read it here... Thanks for the comments.

“YOU‘RE A SELFISH FUCKING BASTARD!” Wylie was Screaming. Drunk and numbed to any verbal assault. If Wylie left now or at least stopped shouting maybe he could get back to the memory. Back before all this…. “I’m not selfish. There are more glasses inside. Help yourself.” With that John filled his glass from the now almost half-empty bottle. His speech was not slurred. His coordination was fairly well intact. Worst, Wylie’s tirade was coming through loud and clear. He added enough to reach

If i could, I would cuss you good and proper... to do this to Travis... you are not going for the happily ever after.... Now I am lost. I was sure the clown was the real bad guy. Is he really dead? maybe not..... HVAC does not a medic make..... I think I wlii wait for the next chapter... more please

One of the most challenging events in one's life can be when we force ourselves to "tear down the wall". When we struggle to expose ourselves... It is a terribly frightening place. Even the strongest feel panic... fight a desperate need to rebuild a single simple lie. A shield, a shelter, protection. For in that moment we have cast off all shielding, all lies, we are lain truely bare... Our very souls are placed, by our own actions, upon the alter. Unbound, unrestrained. Yet, unable to run, hide, lie. On that alter....fear soars to unbearable heights.... Everything falls away. We are left with a terrifying emptiness, an unfathomable void. We wait... seconds, moments, each an eternity. Will the knife come down? Or will our sacrifice we found truely worthy? Treasured for the priceless gift that it is..... And in being treasured our fears destroyed, emptiness filled. Will the knife come down.... Or will we find that instant, we so desperately seek... that instant we know we are loved for who we really are. this started out as a review.... I wanted to say what you shared with us.... what Blake shared with Haze was appreciated and understood.... it touched me. Thanks.

It would be inappropriate at this juncture for me to comment on who is shouting such bad words. Thanks for the nice comments.

Wylie is the strong silent type. Once he gets enough... well.thanks

If you contnue to read, I trust you will find the layout a little less stacato. To have someone with your skills say such nice things in humbling. I will have to look again at these first chapters. Thanks again.... of course I have mixed emotions about you reading my story.... how can you be writing if you read this? ;)Thanks again

I guess it goes to prove that even the best of families can give rise to a spoiled, selfish, wanton slut..... do i smell a morality play here? the anxiety I feel in reading this is how Kharma will revisit Cooper.

Even though John didn‘t really know Doc Belser, anyone could tell he was nervous and ill at ease. This disquiet was even more noticeable than when Doc had visited John’s father’s bedside. Those short exchanges were focused on John’s Father’s condition and could hardly be called conversations. John hoped that today there would be an actual conversation. Perhaps he would get to know Doc and vicariously get to better know his father, as a man. An opportunity son’s rarely, if ever, get. Once