After finishing the letter, Tom unpacked and showered. Refreshed and dressed – jeans, loose shirt, flip-flops, and sunglasses, he stepped out of his room and walked to the lobby. A new desk clerk was on duty. He gave her his room key. She was beautiful, tall for a Thai woman. Her black, braided hair was wrapped around her head. She smiled at him. “Yes, sir?” “May … Continue reading Sasi Part I
“You’ll have to tell me how to make a gimlet.” Tom spoke from behind the bar as he opened the refrigerator. “I may have tasted one, but I’ve never made one.” He removed a pitcher of sangria and poured a glassful. “I think I’ll have sangria instead of beer.” “One part sweetened lime juice, four parts gin,” Sasi said. “Add a slice of lime too. No rocks. … Continue reading Sasi Part II
Nearly a year ago, I began submitting my novel, Honey Ko, to agents. In all, I queried about 65 agents, 24 of whom were kind enough to respond with a gentle “decline.” One agent’s response was so kind I imagined her typing my rejection while crying and feeling dreadful, just dreadful that she couldn’t represent me. I nearly responded with a “There, there. It’s okay. It’s … Continue reading Writing, and Phantom Stories
William Goodfellow was a man, not an animal. William dashed the hoe from his hands and stared at the earth packed beneath his torn fingernails. “This is madness. I am a man, not an animal,” he cried, and fled his field of corn and the blazing sun that burned his head. William’s farm animals howled and barked, and mooed and clucked in amazement, stamped their paws … Continue reading William Goodfellow
“This is an essay Sam wrote after Susanna died. I asked him if I could keep it as a reminder of the two of them. He asked me not to share it, but he would have wanted you to read it. This is how they were, the way they acted with each other. Sam didn’t glamorize their relationship; he described it perfectly. I’ll read it … Continue reading The Love of Sam and Susanna
Sam and Susanna Cam Ranh Bay, Vietnam They say you don’t hear the bullet that kills you. How could anyone know that? Because, they also say, bullets move faster than the speed of sound. By the time you hear the sound of the bullet in your back, you’re dead. What if you’re only wounded; you’d hear that bullet, wouldn’t you? Well, you’re not dead, are … Continue reading Invocation
“We had each other, yes, but even that doesn’t describe what we had. We didn’t choose each other, Frank. We found each other. It’s hard to explain.” Sam leaned forward in his seat. He stared at the floor. His hands were clasped, and he trembled. “There could only be one Susanna, Frank. My life began when I met her.” He fell silent as he collected … Continue reading Dream, Love.
The Writings of William C. Pennington 