An idealistic student experiences the unrest in Portland. I’m Gordon O’Soybe and I’m one of those people who can feel content in most situations. A bus ride…… Read more “That Night in Portland–an Antifa warrior’s story”
Blog
Her Three Wise Fellows
The old man’s back ached terribly as he strained to gaze out the window. He could hear his grandson downstairs, arguing with the exotic girl the boy…… Read more “Her Three Wise Fellows”
The Duel of Harenberg
Viscount Hastings knew reaching out to Ms. Black smacked of desperation, but Sedona’s disappearance didn’t afford him the luxury of fretting over appearances. He glanced over the…… Read more “The Duel of Harenberg”
Ballad of the Lonely Man
There is so much that I could say About the day you threw me away And you can protest that I hurt you But I said sorry…… Read more “Ballad of the Lonely Man”
Delphi and the Deadly Angels–Final Part DEATH ISLAND
Delphi made it clear, if we weren’t on a ticking clock she would have had me locked up in slots for the rest of the voyage. Payback…… Read more “Delphi and the Deadly Angels–Final Part DEATH ISLAND”
Delphi and the Deadly Angels Part 4 A Bullet at Sunset
My cabin could only be described as non-descript but anything was better than rotting in slots. The AB had already unpacked my sea-bag. Two pairs of brown…… Read more “Delphi and the Deadly Angels Part 4 A Bullet at Sunset”
Delphi and the Deadly Angels Part 3 Hava Nagila
Vera opened the door and we entered a space she described as having originally been used to store fuel and chemicals. That turpentine scent still hung in…… Read more “Delphi and the Deadly Angels Part 3 Hava Nagila”
Delphi and the Deadly Angels Part 2 A Voyage into Darkness
The voyage to Hong Kong would take around four weeks. Strange as I expected the vibes on board to be, the prospect of fresh sea air and…… Read more “Delphi and the Deadly Angels Part 2 A Voyage into Darkness”
Delphi and The Deadly Angels Part 1 A Marriage Made in Heaven
A grizzled tramp stared into his beer. Dressed in rags, his eyes were those of a prisoner going to the gallows. Sanchez, still a bear of a man, rose from his barstool. Oil and sweat stains covered his khaki shirt. Those massive shoulders were intact while his hair had been buzzed down to a shadow.
The Spanish Rose
I switched off the car radio, cursed the little Jesus doll swinging from the rear vision mirror and took a final drag on one of those sickly…… Read more “The Spanish Rose”
Peter Abram 