when their wings are broken as do butterflies before they die. Moon drives her brother down down down as ink washes over the blood….
The Japanese say you have three faces. The first face, you show to the world. The second face, you show to your close friends, and your family.
He shouldn’t have moved. If he hadn’t have moved, he wouldn’t have died. I told him not to move. I’ve never fired a gun before.
Voice. It’s a simple concept. Execution? Not always quite as easy. An author’s voice is unique. Even if you’ve never read beyond the first page….
My cramped fingers finally lose their hold on the porous rock. My heart hurdles into my throat. I gasp, arms pin-wheeling, flailing….
Halfway there. The stars upside down above the shore, also screaming in silence. Such need. Rowing, rowing, still halfway there.
I’ve come to understand that writing fantasy genre fiction is my mind’s way of dreaming while awake, allowing me to observe the problems….
We all wear masks, or so I’ve been told. Intricacies fashioned of silver and gold. Painted smiles white and red will hide our troubles, our sadness, our dread.
Each boom outside makes the dishes in the china cabinet tremble. A car alarm down the street starts shrieking in rhythmic bursts….
Charms have always been illegal. Evelyn had been well aware of the law when she stood before the stranger’s cart inspecting the wares.