You cook the mushrooms in butter and eat them with white wine and your lover under a moon that never crests the mountains . . .
In Search of Secrets
Growing Up
She watches me with keen eyes hollow with wistfulness. I try to speak to her when I find the courage, but she never answers. I think she is mute. Her silence intimidates me . . .
The Arcanist
A young girl chooses between toiling over straggling plants or ancient texts in the hopes of reviving her dying world.
Stoney River: Ghost Memories
I am a year old. My first road trip from Virginia to Florida is paved with oranges, cigarettes, and cops. Episode one in Stoney River.
Book Review: Blackbirch: The Beginning by K.M Allan
K.M Allan is a writer I have been following since before she became that beautiful mistress of words; an author. Time and time again I have been inspired by her tried and true writing tips. So, when she published her first book, The Beginning, I had to read it, if only to see her writing techniques in action.
He Has Gentle Hands
A blind boy contemplates the arrival of his newborn sibling without favor based off the whispered experiences of a school bully.
Room 906
A gentleman but not a gentleman was what Edward always was, given the 'no smoking' signs pasted to the ghastly lavender walls.
E is for Epic
E is for Epic . . .
Immortal Spirit
She is that which never wavers, silent in the face of bloodshed, smiling in the face of the storm. She is loyalty; forever inspiring.
Guardian Angel
She came from the woods, her hair deserving of jewels and her face as sad as a dying tulip.
Diary Of A Foster Child
A foster child, Jay Baker has been alone since birth. With no one to talk to, his journal pages become his family as he chronicles his journey toward adoption.
Edward Said
"Is it true you do not spank me because I am blind?"
Father said nothing. Only his breathing sounded as Miles' heart sank. It was true, after all. It was not love; it was because he was blind. Disabled. Different.Â
The Barn
Virgin vaguely recalled exchanging a rake for his fishing pole.
Pa folded his arms as Virgin's shoulders slumped.
Village Of Slaves
The place smelled of the smell of sadness; salt mixed with ashes and dead rose petals. A cloak of tragedy settled over all those who entered to walk the paths between the burial plots.Â
Key To Chains
They hold me prisoner deep within the earth. It is a world of death and hate.Â
I miss the sun. Here in these caverns there is only darkness. Even my thoughts are not my own.Â
