We used to cage them in the tide pools, when they were still small enough to capture in our little hands. Pull them out and snap photos that we could pretend to sell to magazines just like Papa.
Read MoreA Lullaby of Anguish
They had been too frail to make the one-way journey to the planet’s surface. They had all been left in my care for their final years, and Margery was the last.
Read MoreGrowing Swirling Clouds
When the new emperor took over, he executed all witches and demanded all village women smile as we observed them hanging on the gallows.
Read MoreWhat is Conjured Shall Vanish
When the owl came to me, its eight frosted talons gripped our continents, and the atmosphere lapped its ankles like a tide pool.
Read MoreThe Owl
Even Grandfather himself still carries a fistful of salt and spent shells in his pocket and he hasn’t been in the forest since the mine closed.
Read MoreOur Lady of the Clay
When he talked, it was like he picked up a conversation I was having with myself. And staring into those ebony eyes of his didn’t hurt his chances either.
Read MoreWanderlust
The sunset was bolder than usual that evening, a deep indigo streaked with Dutch orange, fuchsia, and saffron. You barely noticed, hurrying as you were.
Read MoreTo Rise Again
Two sips in, she sees the Jukebox Man sitting in a corner, his lips slightly parted. She only realizes what he is when he takes a drink of water in the middle of a song and the music stalls briefly while he swallows.
Read MoreThe Jukebox Man
Frederick says I shouldn’t spend so much time with dead things. He warns that I, too, might atrophy and ossify.
Read MoreThe Art the Owls Can’t Swallow