Trick or Treat
Moldy sugar and weevily flour, Some rancid butter at the Witching Hour.
Moldy sugar and weevily flour, Some rancid butter at the Witching Hour.
Raised by the pack, we didn’t know about the Change util it happened to my friend Brown Ear.
rain in late summer
I stare at my winged reflection
I knew I was playing with fire, but since when had that stopped me?
Legato and Mezzo flew as if their wings were aflame, knocking baskets of gathered berries to the forest floor far below.
The Cessna’s wings clipped the tops off several jack pine as it thundered through the brush on its way down.
A gust of wind stirred up the dust of the deserted street.
Dwaithelord — an honorific for the tribal leader of a coven of dwarven wraith soul stealers.
Reflected in the steel above, I watch the red line widen as he traces the scalpel from my navel to between my breasts.
There once was an alien named Xanarax
Amen.