Dreadful Joy
Life is crazy and irrational. That’s why I became a fiction writer. I wanted to experience some control in my
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Firedrake atop the Runic Tree
She coils where the carved letters end, where the topmost branch forgets it was ever wood and remembers only sky.
Crapulent Aliens
It’s the radioactivity. It inebriates them. Something about what we call the weak nuclear force, that shy, unglamorous cousin of
True Things That Are Unknowable
A dream is a true thing. Truer than we are. Every night, we appear as unwitting players in the dream’s
where three we pilgrims loop time
You, me, and whoever wrote these words, here may we rest a while. And talk with the dead. Searching minds
A Daft Draft
Merlin had warned them twice. “Not the gold dust,” he had said, lifting the goblet with the solemnity of a