This story is for my daughter, Everly. I’m surprised it’s taken me this long to write something for the two…
“Thought you’d cry out,” Broomhill hissed, stirring the leaves with the toe of a boot. “Then again, animals like you…
The Farmer’s Pasture wasn’t technically public land, though there was an access road just off the shaded valley where…
While the Twisted Oak Public Library was taxpayer subsidized, its café was just another piece of real estate rented out…
I shot up in bed, choking on my breath as I struggled to process reality. Slowly the darkness began to…
The stretch of Route 1 that struck through Ogunquit Village was a sea of gleaming metal. I turned off onto…
Prizm’s Portland Mindscape campus occupied two blocks at the fringe of the city’s Old Port, overlooking the busy harbor and…
Brianna Steadpool was, to my knowledge, the only surviving member of the Steadpool family and the eldest of their two…
Gram was fiddling with an arrangement of hibiscus and lilac at the window. The narrow two foot vase she’d placed…
I fumbled with my cell as I shifted my recently strapless messenger bag into the crook of my arm. Ahead…