The Heart
When I was five, I painted a picture of a heart. It was the first thing I’d ever made. My
Author: Wren
The Dread Scourge of Dar’abor
Why do people always assume that I’M the bad guy? Sure, I’m a big guy. And yes, I’m scaly and
With her Hand in Mine
Her hand in his is warm, a mirror of the sun on his face. Though his steps are slow she
The Experiment
I whimper, pull the sleeping bag tighter over my head. His arms around me are strong, secure, but nothing feels
The Fable of the Bear
My mother used to tell me the fable of the mother bear and its cub. The story is a simple
The Return
You may have noticed there was no Lucid Dreaming post this week – that is because the novel undertaking is
Orange Blossoms
This poem was originally published in an anthology called Revolution of the Undertones, by Scrap Paper Press. It’s no longer
Be Still
Original published in Crow Toes Quarterly, a now defunct magazine. Once upon a time, in a small house on a
A Brief Hiatus
Hello my loyal follows. How quiet you are! You would have made excellent children in the 1800s. But I digress.
Annalee Cott
Annalee Cott sometimes forgets to breathe. From a distance the city looks so beautiful. She can sit in the park