A Moonlight Fable by H. G. Wells There was once a little man whose mother made him a beautiful suit of clothes. It was green and gold and woven so that I cannot describe how delicate and fine it was, and there was a tie of orange fluffiness that tied up under his chin. And […]
The air is thick with the scent of pine. Rays of purple, blood red and golden yellow are fanned out across the twilight sky. Kyle walks among the trees holding a bouquet of wilting lilies. Lost, he searches for signs of the path he wandered away from.
On a sunny winter morning, I heard the honking of my school bus; dressed up in my new uniform I hastened to get to my first day in the assembly. Standing in the last queue I noticed a woman in a white cloak
Native Americans refer to her as Skuda-ku-mooch or Ghost Witch. Tales that my, great grandmother would tell, entertaining my sister, Adelynn, and I late on autumn nights.
I wasn’t comfortable here, I should have just said “no!” The house was abandoned, and from what Kelly confessed to me while driving here, made me angry.