All our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. (‘Macbeth’: Act 5, scene 5) With turned, frozen earth stinking sharp on his big coat and gritting black under his fingernails, he checked the side lane was empty before clinking the allotment gate shut behind him....

In the small town of Belle Carne, nothing ever happens—until the autumn night a strange man arrives with a fiddle, a smile too wide, and a promise of free music. Drawn by curiosity, the townsfolk gather beneath the glow of a yellow tent, eager to...

PART 1 I'm not a guy who gets scared easily, but I'm also not the kind who keeps his head in the sand, if you know what I mean. When something doesn't feel right, it doesn't feel right, period. I acknowledge that most of the bad...

My name is Mortimer Lipschitz. I know the name itself suggests otherwise, but I shit you not. That's really my name. I used to wish it wasn't. On all that's holy, I wished it wasn't. But I suppose that the name was never really the...

The house sat empty at the top of the hill. Its security lights were a beacon in the night, like a lighthouse alone in the mist, warning ships away from the kiss of sharp shores. The closest neighbor was further away than a man could...

I left the university campus behind to do fieldwork in the Deep South. I was studying folk songs from southern states that had neither a time or place of origin nor a known composer. Those old songs that just seem to rise out of cultural...

Part 1 “So I’m in the cosmetics aisle, right? And I’m standing there reading this bottle of lotion. ‘Not tested on animals,’ it says. And I’m thinking: Really? Like, who the hell is rubbing lotion on animals? Anyone?” A modest amount of laughter from the audience. About...

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