Become a Patron!

For more info on any number of flash-tabulous rewards including extra stories, personalized critiques, and more!



The Faerie and the Knight on Valentine’s Day

I meet Sir Magvelyn at dusk in a north London park to exchange gifts. The damp, frosty air makes my seven-hundred-year-old bones ache, but I hide my discomfort, and reach up to brush grey strands of hair from his wrinkled brow. He greets me with a tender kiss, then we sit on a metal bench […]


Milk and Moonshine

She was cursed with a fairness that strangled her. Expectations woven into her dark hair, an openness and roundness to her eyes that filled her with horror. They were too pale, too pure, too winsome to protect her. Terrors poured in while tears poured out. Hate and bile ran through her veins, but when her […]



To save a princess you will need three things: A #2 pencil. A graphing calculator. An ally, preferably fearless. # You will need an ally because princesses are notoriously difficult to rescue alone. Your ally should be a family member, a mother or sister who fed you and tied your shoes when the ambit of […]


Swan Maiden

The windowless theater makes it impossible to keep track of the days, but I am certain that years have passed since Fyodor’s last visit. I fear that he has died while his magic has not, for here I still stand, a swan maiden poised forever on pointe. Forever cursed. I often wonder how our Swan Lake tableau […]


His Brother’s Bite

Maurice showed me his twin brother by lifting up his shirt and pointing to the teeth growing out of his stomach. They were in a half circle: five, firm, small pebbles. The edge of an ear protruded above them like a fish gill. Maurice dropped his sweatshirt back over it. “There’s a bunch of cells […]


Boy with a torn hat

Rumpelstiltskin in Love

His love is alchemy; his touch transmutes. I turn to gold at his faintest glance.

“Do I have a mother?” he asks me. He is precocious. Every father thinks his son is special, but I know. His eyelashes are so fine they are almost transparent. His skin is the color of ripe wheat. He is as beautiful as his mother, but more so, because she was so full of fear. She was a creature of shadows, and my boy is all sunlight.


Dear Sunshine

When he was born he had exactly six minutes of normal living. For those six minutes he was loved, cosseted and crooned over by midwives and nurses. He entered the world feeling cautious but very comfortable.

Then he opened his eyes.

A few of the nurses shrieked; some ran away.


%d bloggers like this: