Ghost’s don’t mean to scare you. (Free-form poem.)
Punish me, will you? Two can play this game. (Flash Fiction)
I done worse things than follow some half-human kid toward the beginning of a new world.
She’d won. She’d won! He had got it wrong, but she’d won. No way was she going to pass up collecting.
He’d always painted what he saw; these visions pushed him, bled out his eyes, and the only cure for augural blindness was to splatter it out in colors, shapes, forms.
On a hill, he sat.
Alex didn’t match the location. Casually ragged jeans and a worn
orange shirt stood out in this fantasy-field setting, at odds with
distant four-winged birds and the glimmer of unicorn horns.