Author: Brad Zellar

A man went out to his car one night, started the ignition, inserted a Chuck Berry disc in the CD player, and drove off into the darkness in search of space. He wanted to get out from under the street lights and the general overglow of the city, out beyond the tangle of freeways and…

All night in my dreams, a battle raged, destroying the only world I loved, bombs falling on the city where my beloved slept, in another house, another bed, on the other side of a lake. Deep in sleep, which I surrender to willingly, if seldom, I felt such despair and tried without success to kick…

I do not wish to go below now. –Henry David Thoreau I’ve got no stomach for demolition. Hell, I can’t even stand the thought of dismantling the Christmas tree. It tears me up, so there it sits, six weeks beyond the holidays and still strung with lights and hung with ornaments, the needles showering to…

I close my eyes, whistle, and send the dogs off into the brush to see if they can scare up any words. I’m not sure how long I sit here –it varies, I suppose, from night to night. When it gets quiet like this, though, and I can’t even hear the rustling or baying of…

To surface each morning already grasping for every precious scrap of consciousness. To dance and blow bubbles and reach instinctively for the brightest colors in the crayon box. To creep through bushes and fling yourself at the world. To howl and holler and feel the grass between your toes. To move forward. To lunge. To…

There were four of them in the car. Three of them were crammed in beside each other in the front seat, drowsy and cursing intermittently and squinting into the harsh sunrise that was splattering off a windshield already made bleary with insect grease. At some point in the night they had run themselves through a…