Category Archives: Fiction

in response to “The Raven” by Edgar Allen Poe “Remember that hope is a good thing, Red, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies.”-Peter Stevens, “Rita Continue Reading →

Birdie Lulu was my great-grandmother. A force to be reckoned with, or so I’ve heard. She died just after I was born but left a legend in her wake. I Continue Reading →

The bell at the front door jingled, and an old man entered the bookshop with his dog, a blast of cold, wintery air following them. The old woman at the Continue Reading →

          I was in Sellwood park in Portland, Oregan with my family for the 4th of July. A holiday that in itself already put my Canadian father on edge. Americans Continue Reading →

           The seven legs of Sonnet slowly raised as motors turned shafts and shafts extended pistons. In a mechanical wave, the circular array of legs raised and groaned, then fell Continue Reading →