-
Sigmund watched the flowing water of the stream, thinking only of Magnhild’s revelation to him. Freya—the Bairn who scared him most—had done a reading for her. She would mother three boys. They would be his boys, he knew. When he asked Astrid to read the runes for him two nights ago, he had had Magnhild
-
Astrid stirred her finger around the pool that the rain had left in the road. The water swirled with dirt as her finger glided through it. Her youngest brother, Asmund, watched her closely. He dipped his finger into the pool as well, imitating her movements. Astrid smiled at him, but thought it best not to
-
He perches high, his red wing tucked His voice a herald to anyone with ears. His orange against the black feathered face That nearly hides his eyes Is a flash of fire that calls and answers. Exposed against the green and brown His hues catching, bright and cheery Before the backdrop of the leaves and
-
When summer is high And the afternoon heat lingers into the evening I sit, quiet and still, Listening to the sounds of transition. As the sun sinks behind the shadowy edge of the earth The birds continue their song And the crickets begin to hum As the light fades, creating an in-between space When it
-
God, help me remember to wear sunscreen And eat vegetables with every meal And make regular doctor’s appointments. Help me care about my kids’ school work And my unmowed lawn And going to bed at a regular hour. God, if at all possible, turn me into a morning person And help me feel fulfilled by
-
This summer, I will be crowd funding the printing costs of my next (yet to be named) book: a collection of novellas set in the world of my fantasy novels The World Between and The Chaos Within. Two of the three novellas tell the story of characters before the reader first encounters them in either
-
Sometimes when I am outside in the garden or doing yard work, especially if I’m planting something new, or digging out something old, I think about this certain man I never knew. His name was George and he lived a long time ago somewhere in northern Indiana. He had a farm and a wife named
The Quick and the Dead
Short stories. Creative experiments. Ideas that might not pan out.
The Quick and the Dead 