When Mr. A. Tranjay and I got back, my dad was waiting for us. He was mad I had unlocked the door. And he had found the book, the one Mr. A. Tranjay gave me. He had found it under the mattress with my translation. I wrote it in pencil on the kind of lined… Read More (Fiction) Salamongue Greymouth, Waspkeeper of Hell
Dad was on big important phone calls all the next day, with bankers I think. Mr. A. Tranjay had said at dinner that his work would be done soon, and that was quicker than anyone expected. I didn’t want him to go. I liked having him there. I didn’t know where he loved but I… Read More (Fiction) The meaning of magic
“Is the stag waiting for something?” I stood in the doorway of the old garage. I was supposed to go to a hospital in a couple days. Or was it tomorrow? I could never keep track. But I knew I was almost out of time. I needed help. Maybe I had to break my promise.… Read More (Fiction) Time for dreaming
The next day was dark and rainy. But it never came down very hard. Not enough to put you to sleep. Not enough to bring earthworms from the ground or flowers from the trees. Just enough to be sad. To keep everyone inside. I was grounded anyway, so it was fine with me. Mom called.… Read More (Fiction) What’s the trick?
I woke to flute music. The soft notes fell over me, light and gentle, like how tears fall, or autumn leaves after a stiff breeze. The stag was gone. The sun was shining. I was covered in brown leaves. I had my jacket on and my hat and my hood up, but something had covered… Read More (Fiction) What were you feeding it?
This art by Emma Lazauski is almost exactly as I imagined the razorback fairies from my first book, FANTASMAGORIA. From Chapter Three: A Radioactive Man Has No Friends Gilbert stripped out of the heavy lead-lined suit as he walked to the bathroom. His thinning hair was wispy, and it reached for the ceiling as he… Read More Razorback Fairy
Pringles started barking in the middle of the night. She does that sometimes when I forget to let her out before bed. She doesn’t have much of a bark because she’s such a little dog. She scratched at the back door and yipped. Dad was sleeping hard. He was snoring. I think he drank a… Read More (Fiction) It whispered something to me