Angella Dimitrov

“Callan sucked in a breath. As a sniper, he’d been trained by the Marines to know and recognize moments. 

Moments when all the training—his focused mind, muscle memory, weapon knowledge . . . 

When all the preparation—target reconnaissance, angle of attack, position scouting . . . 

When all the setup—hidden amid the terrain, barrel aimed, trajectory known . . . 

When everything came together in one crucial moment—when the sniper squeezed the trigger and took his shot.”
― J. Rose Black, Losing My Breath

“That noise you are hearing, drowning out
the blows of life, is the wind touching the fronds of the thirty or so eighty-foot-tall palm trees encircling the centrally located swimming pool. You have fun thinking this sound might be the Holy Spirit.”
― Tom Hillman, Digging for God

“It wasn’t a death stare--not for a few seconds at least.”
― S.G. Blaise, The Last Lumenian

“Unbeknown to her, that Louisiana background secretly intimidated my urgency to drop to a knee and produce a ring. Or maybe, I wanted to see her raise a chicken from the dead. Rumors had assured me, her tribe was capable of voodoo, spells, and such. Well, those were my on-going issues toward matrimony.
But on the other hand, Deya couldn’t wait to meet the kin folks. Yes, I knew what visions of family meant to her, butsadly, I wasn’t it. Still, I had to risk her involvement as a potential rope out of hell.

Meantime, we pressed onward to my dreaded hometown. I must have counted all the hog farms, catfish ponds, livestock yards, and chicken barns along our route. Being a country boy, I knew the smells, stinks, and how to identify them all. Yet dealing with my relatives and the death of Aunt Kathy were different kinds of shit to take in.”
― Harold Phifer, My Bully, My Aunt, & Her Final Gift