• Hunting,  Fiction

    Winters Hymn

    Harland stared out the windows past me,his eyes fawning over a raft of mallards swimming. A slight smile emerging,his plump cheeks rising.Stout in stature and balding, he possessed a slight lean in his gate. "Daddy thought this would be a good place to raise us boys.The fresh air good for Momma", he said. His baritone voice..