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Book Day: The Girl, The Gold Watch & Everything

Look, it's a John D. MacDonald book, you don't need me to recommend it to you. But just in case: go on, get a copy and read this damn book. The premise of The Girl, The Gold Watch & Everything is fairly simple. There's a sort... Continue Reading →

Book Day: Blackbirds

Don't get me wrong: Blackbirds is wildly violent, wickedly chaotic, like those old wooden roller-coasters that rip you this way and that, make you call a chiropractor when you wobble off.

Amelia Dare, Baby Girl Detective: The Case of the Creepy Crawlies

Toby Burnhouser was bigger than Brick, and he held my right arm down. Toby gritted his gums and breathed hard through his nose. He took his job as one of Jimmy’s henchmen a little too seriously. My right hand started to go numb as Burnhouser pushed down harder into the short-pile race-track play carpet.

The Spy Who Loved Me

As a young kid intrigued by spies, guns, and kissing pretty girls, I'd have been happy enough with all of this. But at about two minutes and fourteen seconds in, something dramatic happens.

Roses are Red

I'm not much of a poet. When it comes to what I like with respect to poetry, well, I sort of know what I like and what I don't. I can also appreciate that poetry, when it's done well, is... Continue Reading →

The Lady and the Swordsman

But the best room, the room with the most detail, the room done with the most love, delicacy and special care was the larger guest bedroom. Why she chose the guest room for this memory, this moment was anybody's guess.

The First Castle

I got caught up in this trying to do a flash fiction challenge. The challenge was pick a random image and write a 1,000 word story on it in a week. Mine was the castle you see in attached to this entry.

I've had a few things moving around in my head for a long time. The last two months, I've been able to do some reorganizing. Call it mental spring cleaning.

The Prince and the Unicorn

In the clearing ahead, the brush rustled and the pebbles at the edge of the stream registered the sound of hooves. As the blood in his veins turned as black as the evening shadows, he steeled himself for the shot. And for his final choice.

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