Image Credit: Jason B., Colorado Springs, CO While the dragon ascended to the top of the monument, I took in my surroundings. The ocean of writhing tentacles below represented the vast, ominous landscape. My mind churned at the thought of falling thousands of feet into the mass. I would be imprisoned; the continent’s last savior would be gone. The horizon was a dark cactus-green poisoned with inky tints of blue and black. His thousands of eyes floated like clouds, watching my progress. Old Herma would have his way, and I would fight his champion. We descended onto the ebony tower where the battle would ensue. There the Champion stood with Herma’s gifts: harrowing green robes, a sword engulfed in tentacles, and a mask, as hideous as the old god’s face that gifted it to him. Herma, the god of knowledge, would meet me here in his realm. Amidst the books and eons of knowledge, I would fight his pawn.


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 →


I ate it. All of it. It was terrible. My taste receptors burned with acid and salt. Still, my digestive system accepted it, converting the mass consumed into precious needed energy. My next meal was twice as big, mostly blue and green, much more delicious-looking. Third rock from the sun. AJ Joseph gardens while waiting … Continue reading AMELIA JINDI: Ravenous →


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 →


Fibonacci was fascinated by spirals. Mathematical patterns in flower petals, repetitive details in seashells – Nature’s inescapable, infinite cycles. As I hear you arguing with your father, drink-fuelled tempers curdling love to spite, I wonder: are we all like this? Caught in eternal circles, passing around the point where we began. Jo Withers writes micros, … Continue reading JO WITHERS: Spirals →


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 →