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Join The Fellowship

Every quest involves a band of intrepid companions: Jason and his Argonauts … Frodo and the Fellowship of the Ring … James T. Kirk and the crew of the Enterprise. Liberty Island invites you to join a Fellowship of Liberty — a gathering of writers and readers, artists, critics and viewers who share a love […]


. . . . The boy begins to cry. “Papa, stop. You’re making me sad. Are all the good guys gone?” Looking through the gray skies toward the ashen Lincoln Memorial, where an ape sits in Abe’s chair, the man replies sadly, “Yes, son.” They sat in silence for some time, gazing at their dilapidated […]

I’m the Constitution, Dammit!

The Constitution slammed his empty shot glass on the mahogany counter. Stammered sputters gave way to slow slurred speech. “Gimme another, Joe. A double.” “Hey, buddy, you been at it all night. How ’bout a breather?” “Last I checked I’m still the law of this land, dammit.” “All right, take it easy.” The bartender flipped […]

Missing Dogs, Heads, Hands, etc.

"Mr. Murphy?" The voice floated through the open door. The voice from the phone. Smooth, polite, educated. The voice of someone I’d feel much more comfortable about if I could fire a few hollow-points into him first. I sidled up to the door and took a quick peek through. It was just a hallway opening […]

Missing Dogs, Heads, Hands, etc.

"This better be good," I snarled. "Do you know what time it is?" "Oh, it’s good." The voice chuckled on the other end of the line. "Now be quiet and listen. You’ve been asking questions that bother Mr. Louis. He doesn’t like being bothered. So we need to come to an understanding. This morning. Seven […]

Missing Dogs, Heads, Hands, etc.

Fleur de Lis was hopping. The place was packed with the usual rabble. Rich people looking bored, eyeing other rich people and wondering who was richer. The maitre d’, Francois, oiled over. He did a bit of coughing in French. "Got something caught in your throat?" "No, monsieur." "Fighting a cold?" "No, monsieur. My cough […]

Missing Dogs, Heads, Hands, etc.

"Spill the beans, little man," rumbled a voice. "Spill ’em or I’ll string my fiddle with yer guts." "I told you already," snapped a second voice, "I don’t deal in beans. I’m not a farmer or a chef, and my name isn’t Jack! I’m a poor shoemaker, and I doubt you can play fiddle with […]