short story – Nim of the Loch

They named her wrong. Humans always get names wrong. Her mother threw herself from the flat-tired car and stumbled to my loch. She or the baby or maybe both were craving the feel of water, and she collapsed in the banks with her feet submerged. An agitated man followed, yelling that it was too dark [...]

short story – Graveside Books

The grave-robbing began with Gwen Menken’s great grandfather. News of it rippled through our small town faster than the bakery runs out of cookies at recess. They locked the cemetery gates but half the town still gathered around, climbing up the stone walls to peek at the upturned earth. People looked at Gwen’s family with [...]

short story – a castle near Nowhere

Eachann and Moire have never liked each other. I’m their peacemaker, but sometimes it’s hard to reason with ghosts. Of course, babysitting the dead was not in the job description when I applied for a position in the castle. I’ll bet you’ve once heard someone say ‘I live in the middle of nowhere!’ Well, I [...]

short story – the girl who sang at funerals

Nora Birch held a funeral for the tree in the garden. She gave a speech to the attendees; her pink stuffed rabbit, Darla the rag doll, and a small crystal bird she had liberated from a silver cage at her aunt’s house years ago. Even though she had only met the tree the day before, [...]

where are my words?

My laptop sits open on the foot of my bed, waiting, the cursor blinking in the white, blank space of Word. I sit cross-legged in front of it, and then I lay down on my stomach to stare at it. I roll over onto my back to contemplate the ceiling instead and after about fifteen [...]

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. [...]