Fiction

“Maybe something will happen, Lily.” Iris sounded so innocent as she said this, her big blue…

I found the diary on the thirteenth of May, on an iron bench perched along the Seine, shaded by the…

If it weren’t for the little peanut seller, the elephant would have long ago succumbed to insanity. He probably would’ve…

The dogs and I go for our morning walk. A cat corpse, skinny, orange-striped, lies in the alley next to…

Once upon a time, there were two unlikely friends, a hippo and a hyena. They had been friends since a…

My great-grandmother, Alberta Cecilia Burbage Powell, was a strong-willed woman with an uncomplicated view of life. People did what she…

The bird was pecking at my window again. Two days in a row. It was the same bird, a black…