When Talia was three, she got lost in the garden behind the house. She stomped in circles around the same copse looking for a break in the underbrush; there was none. When the moon was full, she howled. Nanny didn't... Read more →


Chernevog was a dick, no question there. If you crossed him, he'd be on your tail as long as it took to cut you down; no mercy, no quarter. Quarter wouldn't have applied anyway; Chernevog didn't appear to have quarters... Read more →


Hank could not believe she would do this. To staple a gold paper crown to his head and drop him down a well was one thing. To leave him down here with half a pack of Newport Lights and one... Read more →


Eponym's Pub attempted to commence business at the tail end of the Miocene Epoch; this was a financial disaster as most of its client base was still trying to find the land bridge. The staff attempted to collect unemployment benefits... Read more →


I lit out for the territories on May 11, 2011. **** The first time you venture into the forest with only yourself for company can be a bit of a shock. I carried a journal and wrote at the start... Read more →


They were lovely babies, Hank, what the hell happened? You fed them too much gluten. I did not! Yes you did. You fed them pasta as soon as they had four teeth between them. Well, it's not like they would... Read more →


Yelena stared at the wall and nurtured her rage. Om Shanti, Om Shanti, Shanti, Shanti, Shanti, Om... fifteen minutes every day. She refused to cut her hair, but clipped her nails to the quick. She was ordered to the shower... Read more →


"Just because she carries it well doesn't mean it isn't heavy (Love and Rage)" - Noelle Mirabella Photography **** This showed up in my facebook feed and I reposted before I processed the contents of her load. I might have... Read more →


I fell down the rabbit hole in 1982, two months after my eighteenth birthday. I was in no way prepared for a hard tumble from the nest. There were three things that kept me off the street: a friend who... Read more →


Kitty is counting her granddaughter's fingers, can you see? It seems we've stopped counting fingers and toes as a ritual. We assume everything is where it's meant to be; at least for those of us living and breathing in the... Read more →