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Flash Fiction: Roasting Chiles
Heat ripples through the air. Ash is carried on the breeze, where it tumbles off like fall leaves. The barrel rolls over hot coals and inside the cage, bright green New Mexican hatch chiles char...
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Waitin’ On a Train
In the summer of 1882, deep into monsoon season, the first railroad tracks reached a small community at the foot of the San Francisco Peaks in the wilderness of the Arizona Territory. The railroad...
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The Most Important Vote You’ll Ever Cast
It took four-and-half hours of planning, blocking, messing up and fine-tuning, but the hard work finally yielded that one perfect take. For some time, a script had been languishing on my computer,...
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Smells Like Spring
I wasted no time in throwing the curtains and sliding the glass door open when I got home. My dingy, cave-like apartment half-buried in the hillside was immediately filled with a soft, cool breeze....
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Shortcut to Sagebrush
Navajo Route 20 is one of those roads you can only find if you’re looking for it. The epitome of rural, is stretches almost 40 miles from Gap, a town you won’t find on Google Maps, to Lechee, near...
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Turning a Lens on Antelope Canyon
There are few places on Earth so naturally beautiful that you literally fall silent at the sight of it. Lower Antelope Canyon, seven miles east of Page, AZ, is one of those special places. For years,...
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Ripped from the Headlines
A man was hit by a train in my town today. No one knows why he walked in front of the oncoming fright train as it barreled through Flagstaff early this afternoon. We’ll probably never know for sure...
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Flash Fiction Friday: Running Away
Rick didn’t start panicking until he was 40 miles away from Flagstaff. He was now 20 minutes late for work and driving 80 miles per hour in the opposite direction. He intended to go to into the office...
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Monsoon
In the arid Southwest, the weather is extreme. Storms build in minutes, catching drivers and hikers off guard. Roads become rivers; slot canyons flood. Hail crashes down from the sky; lights flicker....
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A Farewell to Flagstaff
Someone once wrote that all good things must come to an end. For the past twelve years, I’ve had the privilege of living in Flagstaff, AZ. Of all the places I’ve lived in my life, this one feels the...
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