Imaginings set loose.
Maleficium by Mara G. Shearer The owl screeches From the beeches The flying bats And prowling cats The ring intact A proven fact The witches prance Their coven dance Night approaches Dark encroaches Virgin ready Knife held steady Plunges down In blood to drown Image by Kayla Maurais [...]
Silas yelled through the bars, “I told you they weren't no DTs. The boy’s spewing flames!” The young carnie sat in the opposite corner of the cell, both hands covering his mouth. “I ain't the one swiggin’ Sterno.” Silas threw down the blanket. “Put me in with the murderer. I'll be safer there.”
We were heading to Grampa and Gramma Kellan’s place for the holidays. Gramma would slip us some hard candy before Grampa took us back with him to “earn our keep” by sweeping, picking up tools, or playing around in the barn while he finished his work. “Don't touch it,” he'd warn us. “No time today for the Moon.”
by Mara G. Shearer Photo by Greg Rakozy Mara G. Shearer – Mara was a precocious child and learned how to anagram at age 5, the same year she won a poetry competition in the local paper and was published for the first time. It was downhill from [...]
The fairies were only supposed to come for “naughty children.” They didn’t, however, see fit to exclude entirely age-appropriate expressions of toddler frustration from their definition. Marsha’s fate had been sealed with the very first “No fair!” of the day.
Yuki took another sip of hot buttered rum. She stared at Gerald, the man she’d chosen for this portion of her life. Her eyes wandered from the man sitting next to her, to a different gentleman across the room. The man sat alone staring at the fire.
Maria Purificación Jerónimo, B. Eng., dry spat at the bright point centered on her singleship’s main screen. The offset of the methane spectral lines confirmed this was the Earther starship braking ass-backwards on its fusion drive. The incoming squad of mercenaries was spoiling for a fight with her Alpha Centauri home, riding their engine’s blue flame like one ginormous ignited fart.
During the initial descent towards the reef, my guide from Dive Sirena™ -- who has asked me to call her Fabiana -- is slightly impatient, only a twitch at the tip of her fin giving away her mood. She wants to get to the good stuff, the bright coral reef that lies beneath the crystal clarity of the Caribbean.
An imperial parade of angels...
A tempting teases Barbie. She dreams...