A young girl is sent off on a voyage with her grandmother.

Detective Inspector Dave Box entered the room: an elderly man sat motionless in a wheelchair in a blue dressing gown open at his pale chest, revealing sparse hairs and a plastic tube entering the bottom of his throat.

Tony had been working at the charity shop for a good six months before he found out that it had a basement.

Olly Rice had given his life to literature, but what had literature given him? A wound in the head that oozed something worse than blood or brain matter.

“Guess who’s coming to the campus coliseum?” Zora greeted Zarius in the hall with a wide-eyed grin as he left the classroom.

The cozy brick bungalow stood on a short lane of similarly modest houses with a small, mostly overgrown park at the far end and an intersection leading to Darlington High Street.

Though he would normally look away from such people, for some reason he kept examining them from the back of the elevator. Do I know these losers? He wondered.

Shepherd's family made money by being outlaws. Well, outlaws in the governments' eyes.

The tale of King Twilight and his two daughters happened a long time ago. They ruled over a stunning northern country named Celeste.

At 10 o’clock on a warm August morning, an old but immaculate big blue Buick slowly pulled up and parked by the front gate of the largest section in Serenity Springs Cemetery, Azalea Falls’ oldest, biggest burial ground.

The 40-Year-Old Marigolds” is a personal essay that ties gardening in childhood to the present day. It has themes of family ties, nature, nostalgia, and the bridge of place and time.

First, they stood. Right beside each other. “It’s in the air,” she said. “See?” He looked, but he was either unsure or unwilling.

Konrad picked up his lance. When the judge gave the signal, he aimed his weapon at his adversary and opened the valve that allowed the steam to flow into the piston. His armored motorcycle shot out across the tiltyard seeking to ram Baron von Kobell

Taking in my garden, the wild space surrounding it, full of Spanish grasses and the song of a meadowlark echoing over it, I realized, not for the first time, that I had been very fortunate in the place I lived as a child, some forty years before.

Their hands…weaved together…their bodies in the dance…their bodies rely on each other. I miss you. I miss when we could rely on each other. Us. A world in the world.