Gordon Brewer

A shotgun blast broke the stillness of the dusty July morning. Echoes of the noise drifted back from across the valley while a brief puff of white smoke arose from a clump of saw greenbrier before disappearing. Standing on the gravel road, Tilda Houser looked over in shock before she

The guard flipped the small cover shut after she looked in on Owen Price. The prisoner leaned back against the wall, adjusting his position while he waited for his execution. Between his fingers, a cigarette slowly burned, which he occasionally took a drag from. Surprisingly, his hands weren’t shaking