By SEAN DIETRICH Waffle House was slow. It was late when we pulled in. We needed hash browns. Stat. My wife and I walked into the arctic air of the...
HASH BROWNS
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Sean Dietrich Articles
The Storm
By SEAN DIETRICH Well, the hurricane is approaching. It’s morning, and the first thing I hear in my mother-in-law’s house is the blaring Weather...
The Little Girl
By SEAN DIETRICH There once was a little girl who lived in a tiny town, in the far off land of south Alabama. A beautiful little girl. A girl with...
GOOD
By SEAN DIETRICH A retired professor sent me a letter. He told me that some of my stories were “too plain,” and “needed more work.” Then he went on...
Lil’ Towns
By SEAN DIETRICH It’s late morning in Brewton, Alabama. Sunlight peeks over the trees. A distant train whistle whines. The scent of the nearby paper...
WORDS
By SEAN DIETRICH “Don’t kiss a girl without being prepared to give her your last name.” My granny said that. My father gave me this one: “If you so...
The Patient
By SEAN DIETRICH They tell me Mrs. Simpson was a small, soft-spoken 90-pound woman without family. And that’s how this story begins. The lonely,...
Mamas
By SEAN DIETRICH I watched one of those TV award shows last night. You know the kind I mean. The award ceremonies where celebrities you’ve never...
Fireworks Under a Full Moon
By SEAN DIETRICH Fire 9:02 p.m. — My wife and I parked beside the bay, facing the water, to watch the fireworks. I hear the distant sound of...