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Photo by Simon Berger on Pexels.com a bit of a rant. maybe... <~~ALSO POSTED SEPERATELY AS A FIVE PART SERIES~~> I'm never really sure how these things get started. Often, I don't even know where they began. I only know that frequently, material, time, and effort suddenly disappear from the things I've written. More things... Continue Reading →
I was holding back at our farm in Jaipur because of the monsoons, which was okay. It gave me time for, among other things, closing the books on the summer wheat crop. I had also just finished preparations to export three full shipping containers of garments, borrowed jewelry, and concealed gold jewelry back to the... Continue Reading →
from: Sixteen Hours in Qatar. A collection of short stories Dear readers: this is the second installment of the first chapter of "The Salvations of Abda." I must have neglected to save a more embellished version of it, therefore, it is what it is. The text itself is still accurate. I will be taking a break from... Continue Reading →
from: Sixteen Hours in Qatar. A collection of short stories. My wife, Nalini, meant it as a joke- "Why not register Adba as an ESA animal, now, before we go to India?" Abba, which means 'calamity' in Sanskrit, is our rescued animal. We recently saved her from the Santa Fe Animal Shelter, where she had been abandoned... Continue Reading →
Within the temple, a woman. Her presence secured by the black Escalade and a small secret service detail idling outside. It was Second Lady Usha Vance. She greeted us with a soft smile as each of us pressed our palms and bowed, sharing a soft "Namaste". We weren't surprised when she walked the few steps... Continue Reading →
from: Sixteen Hours in Qatar. A collection of short stories From part one---->>> The young girl's dreams of a 4-H ribbon and a future grass-fed only dairy farm were over. It became a sad story for all concerned. Begin part two below ------->> Most readers are probably familiar with the National ESA pet program. The acronym stands for... Continue Reading →
Page break 2. The Indian Ocean -wip- The cat, which in my mind I was already calling Dirty Socks the name I knew my late murdered father had called it, as well as my grandfather did his incarnation (what other word could I use for this version). It seemed to pay no mind towards me.... Continue Reading →
NOTE: Galley Proof! Author and Editor eyes only! Not intended for publication! I was on deck when dawn morning sun rose, a blurry silver disk low in the east. It was cool and damp. I was still in my light bedclothes but wanted to be on deck to look about and to check the anchor... Continue Reading →
torn words, 
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