Endangered
That all familiar odor. When the foulbrood comes, the hive is inevitably lost. That is known […]
Sherlock Holmes Redux
Mr. Bones held the broken pencil up to the early morning light coming through his science
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The Soul Architect
Hands of the Soul Architect Weave threads of flesh and silver, His work is never done
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A Bird in the hand
He had those eyes, those Hugh Grant eyes. Eyes that crinkled at the corners, mischievous, but
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Sunday Best
Sunday mornings. Everyone at my house dreaded them, except my mother. I abhorred going to church.