Sneak Peak: Nina Nova and the Wayward Dreamers

This is a fun (I hope) ongoing storytelling thing I'm doing here and I wanted to give you a little sneak peak! So here you go, introducing Nina Nova and the Wayward Dreamers...   If Philip had to sum her up in a single sentence it would be this; Nina Nova was like a dream. Not [...]

short story – coffee cups and daggers

Liska If you don’t want blood stains on your coffee cups, then don’t come to my café. I’m not saying it happens often, but if you get the mug with the red painted roses… Well, you’ve been warned. If they knew, my customers might say I make a mean cup of coffee for a faerie. [...]

short story – changeling children

The witch came for me when I was sixteen years old. I was in class, listening to the drumbeat of rain and the wordless drone of the teacher. I had spent the first half of class drawing a pattern of stars and leaves on the palm of my hand and the ink was smudging onto [...]

short story – skye sparrow

Skye Sparrow was weird. She had a weird name, weird clothes, weird sense of humour, weird taste in music. Her hair fell to her waist, a soft shade of lilac, and her lips were painted dark and inelegantly, as if she had crushed blackberries against her lips. She wore bold, mismatching colours in outdated fashions [...]

short story – perfect things

him There’s water in my lungs, but drowning isn’t as bad as I thought it would be. My eyes focus on the ribbon on my wrist; white with yellow flowers, a heart-shaped coffee stain, frayed edges. I wish I wasn’t dying. I wish I had been a stronger swimmer. I wish I had smiled back [...]

Sneak Peak – Ghost Girl

I'm working on a super awesome novel just now so short stories have taken a back seat (although they are always there for me when I want to procrastinate from the writing I'm supposed to be doing). This story, tentatively titled Ghost-Girl, may turn into a novella rather than a 'short' story. But I figured [...]

short-story : red, white and silver

There were still stitches on her chest, black thorns twisting over her heart. She ran a finger over the crude threads as she looked at the thin, snowy dress waiting for her and hoped that the stitches wouldn’t show beneath it. Bring me her heart, her stepmother had said. And so they had. Whatever beat [...]