The Big Secret

The Big Secret

Rat-a-tat-tat went longish nails on old wood. She sat at the time-abandoned Rathskeller Pub, waiting. Three tall jack-and-cokes into her Sunday afternoon, the strange man finally arrived, a wiry figure dappled in late-day shadows. The man looked almost wizardly with a long, white beard and smooth, white hair woven into

A Morning With Mr. Moonshine

A Morning With Mr. Moonshine

It was early morning in early fall. The world was dark, as it tended to be on autumn days such as this, newly unfolded and still smudgy from whatever was left of the night. A hum, low but gentle, rumbled not far behind Peter Luck, who was speedily making his

Sincerely And With Feeling

Sincerely And With Feeling

As the black crow flies, so too does the luck of anyone brazen enough to steal from the Painted Desert for the sake of a vainglorious because I can. Such a creature of inordinate vanity cannot, by the laws of moonlight and the writs of sunshine, remain unpunished for very

A Saturday Story: The Big Secret

A Saturday Story: The Big Secret

Rat-a-tat-tat went longish nails on old wood. She sat at the time-abandoned Rathskeller Pub, waiting. Three tall jack-and-cokes into her Sunday afternoon, the strange man finally arrived, a wiry figure dappled in late-day shadows. The man looked almost wizardly with a long, white beard and smooth, white hair woven into

J.K. Rowling on Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

J.K. Rowling on Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

Is there any limit to the bounds of J.K. Rowling’s imagination? As prolific as she is creative, Rowling conjures up her first big-studio foray into screenwriting with Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (in theaters Nov. 18), and if the movie’s latest teaser trailer is any indication, she’s already a script-crafting pro.

Moonlight Serenade

Moonlight Serenade

There was no way around it: Luna had lost the moon. The revelation was quick but biting and it happened last night around dusk. She had been sitting with her cat, Marama, on the hill overlooking a town fading to pale, evening blue and there assumed her usual moon-watching position:

The Blue Stones of Lisbon

The Blue Stones of Lisbon

By Melissa Marni On a certain street in Lisbon, cobblestones line a narrow, serpentine roadway and when it rains, the stones turn a brilliant shade of dark blue. Somewhere along this street, (exactly where is hard to say), once lived an old, cantankerous woman and her niece, who was described

Nothing But Mist

Nothing But Mist

The witch called upon the mist to wrap its arms tightly around the beachgoers, providing the shelter she needed to slip unseen along the wharf and onto the princess’ ship. She had, at this very moment, but one thought on her mind: Soon the princess would burn. In all fairness,

To The Birds

To The Birds

To the birds To the birds An awakening sorrow To the birds To the birds My soul shall borrow Until little remains Save their troubadour song To the birds To the birds Or To me All along. “It’s a fabricated kind of love,” said Lucie Mayweather to no one. She

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