of The Inn of Stormy Nights
I am not supposed to play favorites, as the keeper of all the stories that ever were, ever will be and always are, but I do. I have a favorite. My favorite are the curious who end up in extraordinary situations. Situations they never would have experienced had they the sense to sit still at …
A tree grows up from infinity. It branches out in cotton puffs of green. Which drop snow over lemonade. Until sorrow overturns the season to pink petals. Which land on the fox’s nose. Who sneezes. Each drops with purpose to the moss floor. They strike a long path through the tangled wood. Shielded …