Life oscillates between obscurity and celebrity, but true fulfillment emerges from struggle rather than comfort and wealth, driving us towards meaningful existence....

There’s a time to change and that’s authentic you see, Because I’m sick and tired of just being “me.”...

As always, conflict arose. Where to go? What to do there? The country was a kingdom and the knights upon steel steeds rode to and fro looking for danger - finding, conquering, and moving on....

Coming out of the courtyard, we start taking fire from second-story windows across the street. The SAW gunner lays down a heavy stream and we close the distance, crossing the street to join the platoon....

I’m still hyper-alert yet simultaneously exhausted, back cold, chest burning from the heat of the lights. They abruptly extinguish, the HVAC system stops. There is no light or sound, only the unrelenting cold....

That’s a mighty fine sentiment I hear from your mouth but I fear you know little of what you’re talking about....

For the past two days we’ve observed a dead drop between two military aged males. One in a Nike hat and another in a brown shirt. Matthews made a log entry and looked back through...

If you haven’t read any “Prison of the Mind” please start at the Beginning. I think it’s close to 2300. There always seems to be a fluctuation in the generators at this time of night....

Joints ache and wind shrieks through the gaps in the old window as the man rocks in the chair. There’s a point in the arc where the rocker clicks forward on the rough sawn boards...

His eyes cut like knives and though I can’t see the guards’ reactions, their hasty exit speaks to Veni’s authority....

“I laughed so hard I cried. What’s it to you, anyway?!”...

“I want you to know that we are here to help. I hope you see the progress we are making in recovering your memory. Though the techniques may seem aggressive, they are effective. Do you...

Time slows as I watch myself convulse and scream....

I turn the key over and over in my hand as possibilities turn over in my mind. The felt shape of the key seems to match the visual memory of the shackle. The key is...

Wait, who’s Ben? The name is close- is it mine? Is it my son’s? A best friend’s? I’m caught in the cycle of this thought repeating and it’s growing more crowded with further questions of...