The Perfect Storm
They call it a perfect storm. I don’t think they would, if they were in the dragon’s mouth. If they
Writer
They call it a perfect storm. I don’t think they would, if they were in the dragon’s mouth. If they
“But what does it mean?” “Well, what does it make you feel?” “That’s not what I asked.” “I know.” “It
In the beginning, there is a voice. The words touch a place of nothingness waiting to be, and somewhere in
She stands silhouetted in the window, watches the shortening shadows and knows in her heart what she won’t
Normally with Lucid Dreaming, my contributors create art, and I write something in response. This week, we’ve turned it on
Continue readingAnd now, for something just a little different…
… Continue readingAnd now, for something just a little different…
When I was five, I painted a picture of a heart. It was the first thing I’d ever made. My
Why do people always assume that I’M the bad guy? Sure, I’m a big guy. And yes, I’m scaly and
Her hand in his is warm, a mirror of the sun on his face. Though his steps are slow she
I whimper, pull the sleeping bag tighter over my head. His arms around me are strong, secure, but nothing feels
My mother used to tell me the fable of the mother bear and its cub. The story is a simple