The thunder in the rolling blanket of clouds marked a season of cleansing, a time of remembrance. It was also a time of death. The Sailor knew that well.

Zena could hardly believe that she was on a plane, gazing down over the North Island. Everything she knew about New Zealand came from Luke’s photographs and postcards: sparkling lagoons, snow-capped mountains and silver ferns.

Once there was a man named Frederick Alarcy who lived and died. He left a widow and two strong sons, and they lived through their grief on the slopes of Broken Pine Tor

It hadn't occurred to Seb not to come, to ignore the unexpected and frankly bizarre bequest. It was too late to turn back now...

You won't find me on any map either. I, too, have been buried, not by Tarmac and sand, but by time and indifference.

It was the early evening in the small farming community of Sunlight County when the stranger came knocking.

ulissa Ye relished all the comfortable little routines and quietude defining her part-time job at The Bookery, downtown’s last small, locally-owned bookstore.

Paisley Parker was the dark-haired, freckle-faced, green-eyed girl in Fitzhugh’s freshman English class who had said nary a word the whole term.

Through clouds of smoke, his blue eyes examined the ladies and gentlemen in front of him. They all looked hard at work, and he smiled at their naiveness, then chuckled, which turned into a coughing fit.

Miriam Bailey remembered how the sound of the car crash became incorporated into the dream she was having that morning.

It’s the same outcome every time. I should have learned back in school that I couldn’t win this battle. But ever since I first saw Pearl, she had a magnetic draw.

Once upon a time, in a small village snuggled into the side of a wooded valley, lived a candlemaker.

Thomas stepped into the bar room. His clothes soaking, his hair flattened to his head. “There’s something out there,” he said. William turned with poker in hand, his brow furrowed. “What’s out there?” “I don’t know,” said Thomas.

Fluttering into the air, she stretched stiffly and looked over the suburban garden. Her breath steamed in the air. “One more day,” she said brightly.

Eventually, some of the bravest voles offered to join Mr. Vole, and they formed a secret club which they called the 'Resistance.'