THE PARLOR is a series on The Milk House that embraces the lighter side of rural life. You can find...
The inaugural Best in Rural Writing Contest has now come to an end. The Milk House is grateful to the...
Emerging from the fog bank, the Beatrix appeared before them, a sleeping leviathan suddenly filling their vision in the twilight...
Ezra Ray and I grew up together in a small South Georgia town of no more than three thousand persons....
A man said to the universe: “Sir, I exist!” “However,” replied the universe, “The fact has not created in me...
Date: 2031/08/23 Project: 4957dbfj (Group #1) Introduction: The focus group consists of six millennials; three males, two females, and...
When Bob was married, he went hunting two or three times a year, but just getting out seemed more important...
How peculiar. Before, David had turned off the main road, walked up the potholed lane, climbed over a rickety stile,...
I was twelve when I figured out God. Mom was a devout Presbyterian who taught Sunday school. Every evening she...
Daddy sat up in a tangled mess of damp sheets. He reached over to the nightstand and grabbed a Camel....
Not a speck of cloud. No sign of rain. Second year in a row. Kishan looked up at the blazing...
Backhoe Bob sat in the gas-station diner with the Sheriff, who also happened to be named Bob. Locals have been...