Dean. Intro. Ehem.

Image Credit: Dillon O., Pompton Plains, NJ The curly-haired girl snatched his ankle, muttering profanities.   "Are you crazy?" she hissed, her wingtips quivering anxiously.   He laughed. "Lighten up, sweetheart, it's only a game."   "You're going to get us killed!" a smaller boy yelped, clinging to his shoulders, staring fearfully at the ground far below.   "You forget, Dean--I CAN'T FLY RIGHT NOW!" The girl cried, shifting nervously against the cliff face, trying to tighten her weakening grip on his shoe.   Dean laughed as the ground about the edge of the cliff began to crack and splinter, like breaking ice. "Oh, Chiara, Chiara... you silly girl..."   "PULL! US! UP!" The boy on his back cried helplessly.   "Raaaaast," Dean smirked, shifting his elbows around on the flat ground and heaving a sigh. "you have to say sorry."   "JUST APOLOGIZE!" Chiara snapped. Dean's shoe had begun to slip.   "No!"   Dean yawned and laid his chin on the edge of the trench, picking up a relaxed hum as more cracks formed around his arms.   "Why should I apologize?" Rast yelled helplessly. "He's the one that stole all the fruit from--"   A sharp crack sounded, and a stream of dust and sand filtered down into Chiara's face. "I DON'T CARE," she screamed, flailing in sudden panic. "I'VE GOT TOO MANY THINGS TO DO BEFORE I DIE...!"   Dean chuckled, finding this extremely amusing. "I feel like this rock supporting our weight over the chasm won't hold up for much longer..."   "RAST!" Chiara shrieked.   "OKAY!" Rast sighed heavily. "Dean, I'm sorry for eating your precious orange--I'll never--"   "GET ME TO HIGHER GROUND RIGHT NOW, BEFORE I CHEW YOUR FOOT OFF," the curly-haired girl dug her nails into Dean's shoe, glaring murderously up at the two boys.   Dean chuckled, and vines suddenly crept silently down the edge of the cliff, curling themselves around ankles and waists and wrists and knees, then began dragging the three kids onto safer ground. One last heave brought Dean's leg and Chiara's body back to the edge of the canyon, and Dean climbed casually to his feet, wiping off the shoe the girl had moments before been clinging to.   "You soiled my kicks," he complained softly, smirking down at her.   She shivered where she lay, her folded wings tattered and sooty, but glared right back up with all kinds of furry in her gaze.   "That was interesting," Rast coughed, rubbing his red hands. "I had to hang on so long that I think I'm getting major callouses..."   "You're welcome," Dean chuckled, snapping his fingers. The vines slowly unwound themselves from the beings and crept away, reeling back into crevices and mini-trenches along the edge of the chasm.   Chiara sighed in exasperation, rolling her eyes. "What next, captain Weasel?" she asked Dean irritably.   "Well," Dean said thoughtfully, drawing himself up with a grin. "I was hoping we could try bunjee jumping."

AUTUMN LALA: Bloody Blanchett

Something wasn’t right. Detective Tift examined his suspect. Newlywed Scott Blanchett scratched the dried blood flaking his wrists, sobbing all the while. This case was clear-cut. They had enough evidence. “Why don’t you just admit it?” Tift asked. A pause. A sniffle. “I can’t admit to what I can’t remember.” Autumn Lala lives in Ohio, … Continue reading AUTUMN LALA: Bloody Blanchett →


I float beneath the ceiling. On the red carpet, my body glows: satin, silk, jewelry worth ten times my parents’ house. My body hugs cast members, producers. Gets felt up. I miss home. The afterparty. I ride a thick line of cocaine back into my body. Feeling whole… doesn’t last. Maura Yzmore is a Midwest-based … Continue reading MAURA YZMORE: Ephemera →


Her father noticed she was still playing with the pile of tea bags. “Shall we put them away now, darling?” “Leave them. They’re my friends.” She had discovered beings that exactly resembled her true form, albeit of limited intelligence. Her next report would certainly create a stir on the mothership. David Mark Williams lives in … Continue reading DAVID MARK WILLIAMS: Tea Bags →


18: The pelican on my shoulder reminds me to slow things down, live calmly. 25: The snake slithering up my arm symbolizes willful and unapologetic action. 33: The rose on my wrist shows me that beauty can stem from new beginnings. “Dad, what do your tattoos mean?” “Nothing,” I say. Jonah Ardiel lives and writes … Continue reading JONAH ARDIEL: Tattoo →


Every Tuesday at four in the afternoon hearts racing the trio of princesses zips down the hill and skips across the cobblestones to the village library Why all the excitement? The Harry Potter book club that’s why Every princess knows nothing compares to the secrets of wizardry hidden in books Roberta Beach Jacobson is a … Continue reading ROBERTA BEACH JACOBSON: Giggles and Magic →