The latest in Doug-generated content.
When he got into his truck, Zeno had loaded the route to Finn Island Lodge, eight minutes away. Lincoln sat in the driver’s seat,“Okay, let’s go,” was all he had to say. The roller-door went up, the truck backed out, the door went down, and he was on his way.“The 911 call is available, if... Continue Reading →
Chapter 1 and 2.5 Chapter One - The Grotto It was early morning on Big Finn Island, and the first fiery sliver of sun had just peeked above on the horizon. Its golden first light glowed upon a large brass bell which had been hanging in the brick tower of Finn Island Lodge for over... Continue Reading →
The things you find when you look through old folders.
Douglas Wright is a novelist and short story writer based in Seattle. Before turning to fiction, he worked as a paramedic, wilderness guide, and entrepreneur; a varied career that continues to shape the stories he tells. Hailing from Canada's west coast, he has contributed to alt-weeklies and adventure publications on subjects close to his heart:... Continue Reading →
I lay prone in the dirt of an Idaho mountainside, gravel digging into my elbows. I watched a puff of dust dissipate in the distant air, 1120 yards across the gorge. A voice came from behind me. “Just beneath his feet and behind him. Come up twelve and hold right for wind.” Said Joseph, in... Continue Reading →
I was rowing a small boat many years ago, fighting the wind and the current after a day of fishing. It seemed futile in the weather I had and night was coming, so I decided to spend the night on an small offshore island. It was here I found a wild and solitary man sitting... Continue Reading →
It was the day of the family reunion, back in the summer of 1984, and we were having a picnic on the village green. Everyone had shown up; all the uncles and aunts, all the cousins, grandma and grandpa, everyone. It was absolutely marvelous. I love those big Italian get-togethers, they’re full of laughs and... Continue Reading →
The helicopter’s blades thup-thup-thupped steadily as the small yellow machine flew low over the forest. The morning sun gave a coniferous green glow to the trees that spread in all directions like a bristly shag rug.