dark and liquid matters

The soil drinks deep of long-awaited rain. Gnomes are fleeing from their flooded burrows.

The beach is closed for fecal matters, try again tomorrow. The Kraken feeds.

Reflections quiver and shimmer on the rock wall rising from the creek. A sylph’s breath upon stone.

A toxic algae flourishes in the depth of a lake. The lake demon grins and whispers “my garden is blooming.”

The humidity will be high this week and Environment Canada has issued heat warnings. The waterlogged ghosts of drowned people are expected to crowd the living this week. You have been warned.



It’s been hot and humid on the mountain these past few weeks, making it hard to sleep. Sleeplessness has a strange, twisty effect on my imagination. The above lines are my muddled responses to things I saw or heard on the news. Future stories, perhaps, but the water theme tempted me to gather them together.

In writing news, the editor/publisher of the children’s bedtime story anthology Eeny Meeny Miney Mo: Tales for Tired Tykes sent me this review of the book, mentioning that my piece, Leif the Story Hunter, was their favorite. That gave me a thrill.

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Print copies of the book are now for sale on the Patchwork Raven’s website for $65 (NZ, international shipping included). My print copy hasn’t arrived yet but I am watching for it.

Happy writing!

pack your bags for a daydream

Pack your bags for a daydream, was all the invitation said. I looked around my apartment, uncertain. What would I need for a daydream?

Google didn’t help.

My empty suitcase, second-hand and no stranger to adventure, waited on my bedroom floor. “Think like a story,” it suggested.

My suitcase is overfond of riddles.

In the end I packed a clock, so I wouldn’t run out of time. A dictionary, so I wouldn’t be at a loss for words. A compass, so I could explore with confidence, and a mirror, to reflect upon my adventures. Blushing, I tucked in my imagination. I probably should have thought of that sooner. Next came knitting needles, in case I felt the dream unraveling. The last thing I packed was a box of cookies. To share.