Nora reached two fingers towards the mound of shaving cream on the tiny table. Sliding her fingers across and down, she palmed the foam, squishing it flat and rotating her hand slowly. Continue reading
creativity
The Art of Creation (or vice versa)
In the beginning, there was darkness. No movement. No sound nor smell. Continue reading
Where Nothing is Wasted, Nothing is Lost
Pushing the goggles back on her forehead, she waved away the acrid smoke and smiled. Continue reading
Wrestling with the Midnight Muse
Somewhere up above the viscous fog that rolled and knotted itself across the meadow between fen and family farm, the moon shone full, a cold silver shield in the night sky. Continue reading
Valley of the Trolls 