Milagro By Chuck Hand Jimi awoke, moving only her eyes. It was something she learned from Lonny.  He called it pulling together the threads of your life before you start moving around.  It’s a focusing thing. She reviewed what she could do this day to make her dreams come true. Read More →

I slip into the confessional booth and sit down on the pale green cushion. It’s a peaceful place redolent of oiled wood, clean old ladies, and thousands of years of tradition. On my right, where the outline of a priest will appear, is a beautiful screen of elaborately carved wooden filigree. Before he arrives, I feel tranquility like in no other place on earth.
The priest appears. I can tell from his voice he is younger than I would like. As is traditional, I start the session.Read More →

The Revenge of the Trees By Charles Hand The Dutch Goose is one of those cozy little bars in the neighborhood surrounding MIT. It’s a place where you can pick up a sandwich on the way home from campus or have a few beers while doing homework. Couples drop byRead More →

Neville Schroeder was a fireplug. He stood barely five feet tall, red, shabby, and pedestrian. Professor Connelly towered over him, a giant oak tree of a man with a silk paneled vest, tweed coat and tie, expensive glasses, and a neatly trimmed beard.Read More →