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KINGDOM COME BY P.S. WRIGHT

“Mama?” Krystal squeaked. Out of the corner of her eye, Krystal caught a glimpse of a shower of orange sparks falling from above and mama’s cigarette landed on the dirt path.

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GUNS WINTER 1967 BY DONALD WATERS

When everyone had assembled, Bruce led us into his bedroom. His parents weren’t home, “Take a look at this,” he said, spinning an army-issue .45-caliber pistol on his finger in the manner of an old west gunfighter. “My ‘ol man gave it to me. This thing is so powerful,” he went on; “My dad says if you shoot a man in the thumb, it will knock him to the ground.”

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