Short Story Sunday: Pixie Dust

“You have to sing to them Max.” “I’m not singing to a demon.” “They’re not that different from angels.” “I don’t … Continue reading Short Story Sunday: Pixie Dust

“You have to sing to them Max.” “I’m not singing to a demon.” “They’re not that different from angels.” “I don’t … Continue reading Short Story Sunday: Pixie Dust

“You have to sing to them Max.” “I’m not singing to a demon.” “They’re not that different from angels.” “I don’t … Continue reading Short Story Sunday: Pixie Dust

Short Story Sunday: Springtime

Springtime “A toast to springtime and love,” said Andy lifting his glass. “To love? At least I know unicorns are … Continue reading Short Story Sunday: Springtime

What the crap is that nipping at my ankles? I looked around, then found myself being poked with a small … Continue reading Small Sharp Sticks