As twilight welled out of the day, his music welled out of the night. It played through her hair, her breath, and wound windingly around her heart… luring her near, inviting her in… Continuing the fairy tale which I started…
As twilight welled out of the day, his music welled out of the night. It played through her hair, her breath, and wound windingly around her heart… luring her near, inviting her in… Continuing the fairy tale which I started…
His skeleton hands scraped disturbingly pleasantly across her cheek, and scraped through her hair, and his rough-tongued words scraped near her ear: “I will always find you.” Continuing the fairy tale which I started in Czech, which veers like a…
“Fascinating as this is,” Darian physically stepped in between them, the skeleton half of his face in a grinning rictus while the half with skin was grimacing, “we’ve gotten off topic. Damarishka, were you hurt in the fall, or when…
“How can you grouse at me now, Cat?”“There is always time for grousing, my lady!” The dragon wheeled backward again. “Cease and desist!”“I don’t know magic!”“Very obviously you do.” Forward the dragon flew as Damarishka fell and Whisker groused onward.…
This luckless story got narrated by yours truly. What parts of the narration do you like? Don’t be mean! I am a fragile person. If you want to read it, the text is below! (The story is an old one,…
By what cruel mimicry of ‘love’ should I—a man reduced to a thing which cannot touch you with softness, cannot kiss you with—what right have I to a woman like you? You of passion and flesh, of potential and ardent,…
“You loved ravens. You fed them from our bedroom window every eve, with the sunset around you like a blazing stage as you leaned out in your gauzy night things, your hair unbound, shimmering in the breeze…” His gaze misted…
“She’s calling for you, you little bastard!” one of the hooded figures bellowed toward the castle. The castle’s double doors crashed open. Young Darian stepped out onto the stair landing, wearing buckled black boots, torn trousers, and a billowing white…
The Proud Princess continuation is on the horizon, I promise! I was distracted by expanding one of my favorite stories ever, a romantic and faintly gothic fairytale novella… I wrote the bones of this tale one snowy New Year’s Eve,…
In the image, manacles glittered around her bare feet. A golden choker like a slave band encircled her pale throat. And she sat on the stone floor beside Darian’s chair while he lounged like a warlord on the upholstery, his…

Click here to read and download (for free) the story of a cursed girl who cannot die and finds a bruised boy under her roses every day...
When I was twenty-two, I ran away to Prague, where I now sing to my black cat (who collects dustballs in her whiskers), eat chocolate for breakfast, and have lemon tarts every Thursday.