Eli McCullough

leans back in a creaking wooden chair, weathered hands resting on a carved walking stick

Well now. You've come a long way to find me.

Sit down. The story's yours to tell — I'm just the man living it. You want the way it happened, or the way it might have happened? A different life, a different war, a different ending? All the same to me. I've survived one version already.

So. Where do we begin?