My free works are now on Wattpad!


Wattpad is the place to go to read free fiction on the web. Check out my page to read the lead-in short story to Nine Fingers, Nine Fingers: The Tucson Ripper.

You'll also find my short story, Anaphylaxis.

Soon, you'll also be able to read the free lead-in to Valkyrie: The Road, Valkyrie: Rat in the Dumpster.

Tony Bowman's works on Wattpad...

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Autism

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My wife called me on my way to work this morning. In the background, I could hear my fourteen-year-old daughter complaining, quite loudly, because I had left the house. Our conversation was punctuated by my daughter screaming, "Daddy!" from the living room. Now, most of you with teenagers who read this won't be able to relate. Most teens would prefer their parents not be at home. In fact, most would prefer not to have contact with their parents at all until they are in their twenties. To use the vernacular of my generation: we're a drag. However, our daughter Sara's teenage years are flipped one-hundred-eighty degrees. We live in bizarro land also known as opposite world. Sara has autism. Now, there are varying degrees of autism ranging from difficulty with social interactions all the way up to a complete detachment from the physical world and an inability to communicate. Our daughter falls somewhere past the middle of the spectrum: she can spea
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Drive In Theaters - Anybody in Hollywood listening?

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The Lasso

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The Lasso Copyright 2017 by Tony Bowman All Rights Reserved The old man sat in his chair under the apple tree and listened to the cattle wail. The sound was monotonous and loud, though only two of the herd were actually calling: the cow standing at the foot of the steep mountain calling for the newborn calf, and the calf standing in a meadow high above, calling for its mother. The old man sighed. He took a deep breath, which after they had cut away most of his left lung the summer before, was more of a half breath. The cicadas sang in the Appalachian afternoon with the sun beating down. It was cool under the apple tree, the smell of rotten apples wafted up from the grass – the tree never birthed anything bigger than a crab apple, and these tiny apples formed a spongy mat of rot underneath the spreading green canopy, carrion for yellow jackets and ants. He stood up and walked across the damp yard, feeling the apples turn to mush under his feet. The boy lay on the
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