Fiction
The Vietnamese Orchid
She never asked about the flower.It bloomed once a year—then wilted in his hands.Every Thursday, he watered it like clockwork.Now ...
The Blanket from Quảng Trị
It smelled like cedar. And gunpowder.The quilt was a gift from his daughter—stitched from old uniforms.But the dog wouldn’t leave ...
The Road to Huế, and Back
He wrote the same postcard every year.To an address that hadn’t existed since 1975.No one ever wrote back.But this year, ...
The Dog Tags in the Barn Dust
He told his son to burn the box.Said it was nothing but ghosts and bad blood.But sons don’t always listen.So ...
The Widow and the Tape Recorder
She hadn’t touched the attic since Harold died.But when the roof leaked, she went up—and found it.A dusty tape recorder. A ...
Her Father’s Last Parade
He never asked for a flag, a medal, or even a “thank you.”Just silence, and a cabin deep in West ...
The Zippo That Wouldn’t Light
He hadn’t touched it in fifty years.The old Zippo, scratched and silent, engraved with just a word: Forgive.It hadn’t sparked since ...
The Medal in the Tackle Box
He never spoke about the war.Not to his wife. Not to his kids.But when Emma opened the tackle box, she ...
The Dog Who Waited Twice
He buried Dusty in a jungle grave near Da Nang.Or at least, that’s what he told himself.Fifty years later, a ...
The Dog at the Funeral
He didn’t belong to anyone.But he sat at the edge of the cemetery like he knew the name on the ...