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Summer camp for boys had been a nightmare of fellowship and other itchy rashes. For weeks, he had tried to find somebody he could like or a hiding place, but they had pestered him with bows and arrows, canoes and climbing ropes. The ropes he liked. Read the rest of this entry »

I turned thirty in here, I turned forty in here, now I’m fifty and there’s very little chance you’ll let me out, I know that. What purpose does this serve? At least I’m not at large in the world, I guess you’d say. You should only know what’s at large in the world. Read the rest of this entry »

He should only hang. He only survived his youth because he had his parents overmatched and lived by their protection. Their idea of punishing Butchie was to limit him to slightly less of something the rest of us couldn’t afford even a little of. Read the rest of this entry »

How you begin is who you are. Only a killer can do it alone; for others, whether you slice, chop or do field surgery, have someone reliable hold the bird by the wings at the shoulders. Read the rest of this entry »

He says he has to release the tape in service to the truth. I think he means The Truth, but the truth is the story’s not his to tell. He’s embedded with us again, running tape while we clear this mosque again of insurgents and search it again for weapons. Read the rest of this entry »

Until my hitchhiker showed me her gun, I’d been speculating whether crazy and neglect could render a woman nearly unrecognizable since I’d last seen her. She’d chosen a shockingly dangerous place to flag down cars, Read the rest of this entry »

Something so good and pure at the core of a man like my husband hardens to a bullet in the forge of an inhuman world. He might laugh at me for saying so. He doesn’t need me to sing his praise. Those who don’t know him will never admit his humility. Read the rest of this entry »

What must it feel like to know you’re being operated on. Hear the happy surgeons chat about vacation homes while they stab and reach inside you. Just a few steps from the diner door, the first blow paralyzed me. I fought my body as it fell, but couldn’t make it move. Read the rest of this entry »

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299-WORD NOVELS

Character, conflict, emotional impact. And sentences! Everything you want in a novel, without one extra syllable.

Behind the Pseudonym

The pen name David B Dale honors my parents Beatrice and Dale. David+B+Dale = davidbdale

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