Ryan Everett Felton

  • The Man Who Ran for God (pt. 13)

    IV. My Mouth Will Tell of Your Righteous Acts THE GOD WE DESERVE IS JUST A MAN by Mary Jetson When I ask Gideon Dodd, 42, why he wants to be God, his eyes glaze over in that way many would assume means he’s staring straight through them, cooking up some diplomatic, sound bite-ready answer.…

  • The Man Who Ran for God (pt. 2)

    VI. Their Rims Were Tall and Awesome “It should be you.” In his study, Dodd, a block of pine on his knee, uncapped a bottle of industrial-strength wood varnish. At the window, his press agent Raymond Wachstetter reached on tip-toes to open the blinds and let some sunshine in. The squat man sniffed. With his…

  • The Man Who Ran for God (pt. 1)

    GENESIS I. In the Beginning Gideon Dodd, he was a preacher man. And during the first quarter of the twenty-first century in America, a preacher man with the gumption, charisma, booming voice, and winning smile of Gideon Dodd’s caliber could make a lucrative go of it. At forty-seven years old Dodd had long since been…

  • The Good-Bye Garden: Part Six

    IX              After binding my wrists with some hemp they took me to an enormous and grotesque white building, all sharp angles and mottled with pebbles and granite chunks. They called it “City Hall.” There was a ring of deep water around it full of piranha and the leftover bones of all their previous meals.…

  • The Good-Bye Garden: Part Four

    VII              “You horse’s arse!”             For the first time in two years this pretty little thing and I were standing face-to-face, and she wasted no time making with the insults. There wasn’t much delay, either, in the way her cupped hand drew back, like a reflex, and slapped holy hell out of my gob.…

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