I haven’t been feeding Lucky’s hounds. I hate them. I was, and still am, feeding pace, the monster dog Lucky flew in from Texas on a plane.
Tag: Appalachian fiction
Establishing Witness, conclusion
The preacher was a neat spare man in a yellow shirt and navy blue slacks. Had she not seen the maroon Bible pressed underneath his arm, she’d have mistaken him for a Vista Volunteer.
Establishing Witness, con’t. Joan Spilman
When nothing happened, Vernie began to fear the worst. Anjean had been murdered and no one had identified her body. She’d been sent to the medical school in Morgantown; the Adult Service Work having checked the box, “anatomical gift”.
Establishing Witness, by Joan Spilman
Vernie hadn’t looked in the coffin because she’d got a good look at him when he was born.
