Wilton Morley
Eight doors into a story.
A first look inside each book. Choose an opening, then follow the story into the complete edition.
Bars & Stars
My mother had a movie camera for as long as I can remember. Sometimes, she would put up a screen on her desk and show the silent movies she had taken. No sound was available on home movie cameras in the 1950’s, at least not in England.
Bit Parts
Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, and the Big Bopper were all squashed into a booth at the Mason City airport canteen, shooting the shit and watching the waitress whose name was Caitlin. It was nineteen below zero out there on the runway, according to the radio.
Kerosene
He’d left his watch back at the house, but he must have been standing in the rain for at least three hours. The last light was fading slowly, dusk loitering with intent, clinging on for dear life. He wondered if this was how it had felt to his father whom he had watched die a week ago. The old man’s head had bobbled like a dashboard ornament atop the shrunken torso; dull gray morphine eyes staring towards the garden, counting down the hours.
Middle Class Fantasies
“That’s new,” I said, nodding at the box springs propped up against the charred wall. “Some sort of indigenous art sculpture, Murray, or will it actually become a functioning bed one day?”
Tehrun
Ronnie Scott Dodd was engrossed in the racing section of the Daily Express when he first caught sight of the thin man out of the corner of his eye.
The Last Gypsy
The old man trusted Montclaire. As policemen went, he was one of the better ones. In his late fifties, Montclaire had never moved up through the ranks as his wife had hoped he would do. He had a reputation for bucking the system, going too easy on the criminal classes.
The Shelterers
When she left the Ritz later that afternoon, Peggy Guggenheim headed northwest on the Place Vendome. It had been an unusually warm spring and today was no exception. The Parisians she passed seemed not to have a care in the world; other than the headlines on the billboards, there was not the slightest hint of impending doom.
Winding Back
When I was a young man, I left England and went to seek my fortune in Australia, as young men do. After working for a theatrical production company for a few years, I branched out on my own. I bought the rights to a play and raised enough money from investors to produce it.