Before I became a swamp-wandering river hobo with a camera, whiskey, and no discernible skills, I wrote fiction. Bad fiction. I've gathered it here rather than let it gather dust, because I am, deep down, a masochist.
Dark Tide - A short story about a hard-living WWI vet, a con man with a fake medical degree and a valuable stolen McGuffin, who punches witches, cracks wise, and defies death - all set against the backdrop of the 1927 Mississippi River Flood. Dark Tide was an entry for a horror fiction contest about witches. It failed because it has very little in the way of witches, and honestly, it's not horrific at all.