Author Archives
Bill Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose, and lives in the Pacific Northwest.
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The problem with white space
So I’ve been up now since 3:30 AM listening to the rain and the sounds of Elton John and Styx in my head, toggling between the two as I try flipping over to my left and my right, but still… Read More ›
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A Bit Green
I bragged that after six days on the road, I was only on my second T-shirt. I wouldn’t have taken off the first one, had it not been for the stains that were either beer or coffee, maybe both. We… Read More ›
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The best place for an idea
…isn’t your head. It starts there of course, but if it never leaves, that’s where it will end. We filter ideas for a variety of reasons, fear being the biggest, along with its brainy cousin, “discretion.” No, the best place… Read More ›
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The Apple ate the Blackberry
I bought my first iPhone in 2007, as a gift to myself before our second daughter was born. I figured there was the threat we’d run out of cash now, with two kids, and so I could justify a $500… Read More ›
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The hum
A hum started building near the Magic Place, down the dead end road that said No Turn Around. Benny was crouched down looking at the snake, and realized it was dead. That’s why it didn’t move when he saw it… Read More ›
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Benny Hopstock
Benny Hopstock was a boy with curly blond hair and big, brown eyes, like a doe. His mom said he looked like Goldilocks, but he didn’t like that. He was pudgy and looked a bit like a pig, like the… Read More ›
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The Death Card
My friend was a former Navy SEAL officer, and you would never know it. He was proud of his service, but humble, mild-mannered, polite. We worked together in the office. He drove across the country following a breakup with his… Read More ›
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The Magic Place
It was a magic place, where we met. The sweet brine of birdsong, a tapestry in the trees, the mystery of light angled through the leaves. There, where the two made love on the ground, in the grass. How the… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 