Rick Hartford
Bio
Writer, photo journalist, former photo editor at The Courant Connecticut's largest daily newspaper, multi media artist, rides a Harley, sails a Chesapeake 32 vintage sailboat.
Stories (48)
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The Pussfellows
By Rick Hartford Chapter 2 The atmosphere in the room was suddenly electric. Humming. Hank, standing in front of Lord Byron’s desk, realized that the hair on his neck was standing straight up. All his sensations: His clammy hands, the dim copper light, the rancid smell of rotting fish, were suddenly sharp, like running your thumb over the edge of a straight razor and watching, fascinated, as a trickle of blood drops to the floor. He turned and saw that there were four more Pussfellows in the room with them. It was suffocating. Lars, in the corner, was no longer smiling. His right hand was resting on his thigh, just below his hip, just under the handle of his pistol.
By Rick Hartford12 months ago in Fiction
Reign of the Pussfellows
By Rick Hartford Hank looked at his face in the mens room mirror. Haggard and hung over, just behind his eyes was a spot that felt as if it had been hit by a ball-peen hammer. He took out his flask and slugged back a shot of whisky, bent to the sink and splashed cold water on his eyes.
By Rick Hartfordabout a year ago in Futurism
The Savior
By Rick Hartford I see it coming from a long way off, a black speck wavering in the afternoon’s scorching heat, dust swirling, engine whining louder as the speck becomes a trembling black locust. I stick my thumb out. The black Dodge Charger slides to a halt.
By Rick Hartford2 years ago in Fiction
The Werewolf and the Gypsy Queen
By Rick Hartford Click Romanski, dressed in a dirty white safari jacket and wide brimmed canvas hat, lit a cigarette and got out of his rusting International Scout. He had been following the poachers from a distance and now he had seen they had left the road, their tire tracks disappearing into the forest.
By Rick Hartford2 years ago in Fiction
Saving Chumley
By Rick Hartford Hi. My name is Chumley. I'm a toy troll. I belong to Charlie. He’s 10. We’ve been together forever. I knew something bad was going to happen as soon as Charlie’s sister grabbed me on the way out the door as the family was getting ready to go on vacation.
By Rick Hartford2 years ago in Fiction
