by Gerald Bosacker

School vacation was already one week old, and nothing exciting had happened. My new Buck Rogers rocket watch said it was at least nine o’clock, and my cousin Billy was still slopping down breakfast. I made tons of noise while waiting outside on the back steps hoping that would speed him up. Already too late to go fishing, but we probably would try anyway. We hadn’t caught anything but bullheads so far, and they were the only fish I couldn’t eat, even if I had both caught and cleaned the ugly mud puppies. Billy would and did, though. He would eat anything yet he was as skinny as I and almost as tall. Except for Eunice and Mirabelle, I was the tallest kid in sixth grade in Le Center, Minnesota.

Read the rest of this entry »

read comments (0)

by  Richard H. Williams

Grandpappy always put on those long handles when the leaves fell from the trees and the weather turned cold. He sure looked funny but I guess he kept warm. With gray-white hair which covered most of his head, the gray-black stubble which grew on his face, and the wiry-red fleece of the long johns which seemed like red hair growing all over the rest of his body, he looked like some sort of a cross between a bear and an old man.

Read the rest of this entry »

read comments (0)

A short story by Troy More

If there’s one thing that sets apart those who grow up in the country from those who come of age in the urban jungles, it’s the strong family bonds that form as we struggle together to tame the harsh, unforgiving prairie.

And if you believe that one, I’ve got some prime farm land in the Yukon that you can have at a good price.

Read the rest of this entry »

read comments (2)