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
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
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

The boat tosses and turns, water crashing over its bow, threatening to tip the tiny crew into the roiling waters.
“I can’t hold our course, Captain!”
“Look alive, Fishlegs! The deadly virus cure’s gotta get to Littleton before sunrise.” Continue reading
At his age, you’d expect a lot less.
At his age, you’d expect his eyes to grow wide
His mouth to open in shock,
His shoulders to rise and curl around himself in protection. Continue reading
Writing and Stuff by Chris Hall - Storyteller and Accidental Blogger
A.I. Art and Poetry
Independent Publisher of Poetry and Prose
Chel Owens
Live music in St Paul Minnesota
pagan songs & tales
Poets Pub
Writing/Tales + Tails + Culture + Compassion
my views.. my way
Challenging the barriers of the way we define reality
Stories and thoughts about being a queer girl geek in the 21st Century.