Byron McCoy
Stories (8)
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BEYOND THE PLAIN
They walked a country road together in high apex of August heat as sun sank in sight in western sky; its fire greatest in advance of coming eve and night’s cooling respite hinting of autumn airs to come. The sky weighted heavy in humidity from a rain that would not break and dampness refusing to depart. The tension of the sky added to the heat and flame of bare-sky sun, and in their walk, they took rest beneath a pear tree in open space where once a homestead stood, its family, story, toil and joys leveled and forgotten—returned to sea of prairie—save for the great pear tree that remained: living proof the place was once a home for man.
By Byron McCoy4 years ago in Fiction
REPEAT THE PAST
“You can’t repeat the past.”—F. Scott Fitzgerald You staged hours before in the hangar bay of the ship by company, platoons, squads, and fire teams. You inspected, reinspected, and waited. You had an old iPod, back when they were just music, and you listened to zone out and to put your mind in a place and spirit that was not its normal state.
By Byron McCoy4 years ago in Fiction
BULLS
(The following is a work of fiction and—in accordance with community standards—not an assertion of personal belief. Associations attributed to this work of fiction, religious or otherwise, are reader interpretations. To all offering time and thought to story—whatever one’s interpretation—thank you).
By Byron McCoy4 years ago in Fiction
HER NAME
Ryan listened to the conversation never expecting to become a part. Resting in the college coffee shop, Ryan listened as two English Doctorates—each with their own private, and common, ambition to write the next Great American Novel—debated Dante and the identity of his beloved. As the often case of most such-dreamers, their minds were swept into ideations of grand that blinded sight to subtleties and truths by which such works endured.
By Byron McCoy5 years ago in Fiction
