They could’ve gone to the right
To the tidy brown cottage in the ring of aspens.
Goat nibbling happily on the turf roof.
It had reminded them of home.
But they went left.
To the gingerbread house with the candy kitchen. Continue reading
Henry peered between the slats of the alleyway fence, leaf green eyes nearly popping out of their sockets in horror at what appeared to be carnage of the most brutal kind. Continue reading
Winslow Homer 1893
The falling snow piled around his hut, the shelter he’d built at the edge of the woods, from stone and fallen trees, meadow grass and mud, the retreat that was far enough away from the Hold that he rarely got visitors, but near enough that he could watch the lights wink out in the north tower when the weather was clear. Continue reading
Emily was almost invisible behind the big overstuffed armchair in her father’s study, but looked quickly around its armrest to see if anyone would be coming in and interrupting her plan about his chessboard. Continue reading
Sara’d planned a lifetime for this.
She’d done the research: observation, repeated sampling, clearly defined measures, notes on outliers, meteorological forecast, personality inventory (willingly cadged by some pig, from the father’s file cabinet. Some pig, indeed!). Continue reading