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A Father's JournalOctober 12, 1893 The woodstove needs more kindling. I told Arthur Jr. this morning, and he nodded with the serious expression he has worn since he was old enough to understand that his father speaks to him as one speaks to a grown man, which he is not. He is three feet and eleven inches tall. He has my eyes and his mother's mouth — the mouth of a woman who died five years ago and whose face I...0 Comments 0 Shares 72 Views 0 Reviews
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Benjamin Franklin the Second was not named after the founding father. His parents, who were nobody in particular and lived in nobody in particular, named him Benjamin because they liked the name and had no idea that anyone would find the irony amusing.By the time Ben was twenty-six, everyone found the irony amusing. He had five million followers across three social media platforms and zero actual expertise. It started when he was twenty-three and unemployed, living in his mother's basement in New Jersey, scrolling through Wikipedia at 3 AM. He read an article about quantum physics, then another about economics, then another about...0 Comments 0 Shares 51 Views 0 Reviews
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Benjamin Franklin the Second was not named after the founding father. His parents, who were nobody in particular and lived in nobody in particular, named him Benjamin because they liked the name and had no idea that anyone would find the irony amusing.By the time Ben was twenty-six, everyone found the irony amusing. He had five million followers across three social media platforms and zero actual expertise. It started when he was twenty-three and unemployed, living in his mother's basement in New Jersey, scrolling through Wikipedia at 3 AM. He read an article about quantum physics, then another about economics, then another about...0 Comments 0 Shares 43 Views 0 Reviews
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Bill Hudson had spent forty-two years telling himself his father was crazy. The radio signal made him wonder if his father had been the only sane person in the family.He was driving his truck through the mountains of eastern Kentucky when he first heard it. Not on his CB radio—that was full of truckers talking about weigh stations and speed traps. This was on his ham radio, a hobby he'd inherited from his father along with a collection of equipment that had sat in their trailer's basement for twenty years, gathering dust and ridicule. The signal was a...0 Comments 0 Shares 51 Views 0 Reviews
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Billy Calloway was fourteen years old and he knew two things about his father: first, that his father was a cruel man, and second, that Billy needed his father to stay alive.These two facts lived in Billy's chest like two animals in a cage, snarling at each other, neither one willing to yield. He carried them every day—to the table, to bed, to the edge of the plantation where the woods began and the world ended. Cousin Ez was at the edge of the woods most mornings. He was an old man—thin, gray-haired, with a face that looked like it had been carved from driftwood....0 Comments 0 Shares 52 Views 0 Reviews
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Case File No. 47: Patient Elspeth MacLeod, age 23, admitted on the recommendation of her father, Laird Hamish MacLeod of Glen Coe. She was brought to the Royal Infirmary of Edinburgh by carriage on..."She claims to be possessed," her father told me in the corridor, his face lined with a worry that was part genuine concern and part the embarrassment of a man whose daughter has stopped behaving like a daughter and started behaving like a prophet. "She says she is not herself. She says she is a woman from the future." I am Dr. Alistair Blackwood, psychiatrist at the Royal Infirmary, and I have...0 Comments 0 Shares 60 Views 0 Reviews
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Danny Kowalski pulled the red Chevy out of his father's driveway on a Monday morning and the engine caught on the first turn, as it always did.The truck was a 1972 Chevrolet C10, red, with a dent in the passenger door from an accident Danny's father had in 1974 trying to get Danny's mother to the hospital in a snowstorm. It was the kind of truck that started on the first turn even after sitting for a week. It was also the kind of truck that said, to anyone who saw it: this man is a worker. Danny was twenty-two years old and he worked...0 Comments 0 Shares 78 Views 0 Reviews
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Dylan Kelly's hands looked like his father's hands even though his father's hands were in a casket in Oak Hill Cemetery and Dylan's hands were stil...The mine closed on a Tuesday. Not with a bang. Not with a protest. Just a letter taped to the gate: EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY. NO FURTHER OPERATIONS. THIS PROPERTY IS NO LONGER VIABLE. Viable. That was the word. Not dead. Not finished. Just not viable anymore. Like a patient on a table with a doctor explaining that the treatment isn't working and maybe we should think about comfort measures. Dylan...0 Comments 0 Shares 51 Views 0 Reviews
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I am K. I have no memories of a mother, a father, or a home. I only have the Room.The Room is a vast, seamless expanse of white. There is no horizon, no shadow, and no sound. In the center of the Room is the System—a floating interface that allows me to manifest anything I can imagine. For an eternity, I played god. I created oceans of liquid gold, forests of singing glass, and cities that defied gravity. I built a version of myself that was perfect—strong, wise, and loved....0 Comments 0 Shares 55 Views 0 Reviews
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I knew the Red Heat was coming because the air in my father's library suddenly felt too warm, and my father has always kept the house at a temperature that would make a Northerner weep.The library was on the second floor of Blackwater Plantation, a Greek Revival structure built in 1847 by my great-grandfather, a man who made his fortune in cotton and spent the rest of his life trying to hold onto it. The house sits on the banks of the Black River in eastern Louisiana, surrounded by cypress trees and water — the river is high this time of year, and the land between the house...0 Comments 0 Shares 65 Views 0 Reviews
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I knew the Red Heat was coming because the air in my father's library suddenly felt too warm, and my father has always kept the house at a temperature that would make a Northerner weep.The library was on the second floor of Blackwater Plantation, a Greek Revival structure built in 1847 by my great-grandfather, a man who made his fortune in cotton and spent the rest of his life trying to hold onto it. The house sits on the banks of the Black River in eastern Louisiana, surrounded by cypress trees and water — the river is high this time of year, and the land between the house...0 Comments 0 Shares 47 Views 0 Reviews
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