The Confessor of Littlefield by R.J. Hoffman My language creates itself. It is reason. My intellect controls through my will
Bill was called to the scene of an auto accident late one unseasonably warm December afternoon in 1968, and when
John advanced in the army corps through three years and became a second lieutenant in an army guerrilla training unit
A year after Bill quit school to work as a farm hand full time Hiram asked him to help John
What was it that became today? “Today shows us the silhouette of the future,” professor Cliffnut says as though he
This installment is perhaps not the best one to read first if you are new to the Confessor of Littlefield.