I Hid My Eyes Behind Your Sofa

The cough is human, polite without being urgent. I stir slowly, roots moving in a slow ponder. The ancient wards and protections are holdin...

“Jay. You don’t need to make friends with everything you find,” I say as patiently as I can. “But Charlie, it blew in with the wind. See...

“Jay.” Charlie pauses. “What are you wearing?” “Well. I want to go back to school for another day and,” I add firmly, “I’ve been listening...

Mum’s not a bad person. It’s not a cool thing to say about your mother, but it is true. Like the time she met Jane’s youngest brother and t...

Moons The package arrives unmarked at the motel room door, just like the email said it would. Magicians dont use the internet because s...

It is a dangerous lie for magicians to think magic is more important than it is. A magician is a wall, a doing, a being – sometimes even a ...

There are things it is easy to forget if you’ve been a magician long enough. I imagine the police have this problem as well: you become som...

The start of a series of stories I've been doing this week in response to a writing prompt challenge. Was inspired by the fact that lit...

Another prompt from  the Monkey . I don’t like loose ends. Magic is by nature untidy – a fraying at the edges of knowing – but no magi...

A submission for the monkey's weekly  flash challenge . I doubt I will do much (if anything) from Jay's POV again: he is fundamenta...

Jay sits beside me on the couch, watching Sesame Street in silence for a good half-hour before giving me a hesitant poke in the side. ...

I leave Charlie and Jay in the hotel room and go out walking. There are magicians who walk only in their hearts, or in dream worlds they ha...

"This is your fault." Charlie stabs her finger harder on the horn and glares death through the windshield at the horse eating gra...

Prompt: swords are weapons. Prove me wrong “That is not a sword.” The knight froze. The voice was as deep as the ocean, as tall as mount...

Whether it is one you met last night, the household haunt, or a memory from your past, write about them. Dear diary, I never had a diary b...

They have done this since the time when the stars were young, when the earth was fresh and new, each year one meeting, one night on the eart...

(In response to writing prompt 167 .) Mister Disaster doesn’t know he has that name. In folders that are classified 36 levels of security ...