No matter how many years pile on, I’ll always remember that little girl perched, super-still, on that pristine, red park bench. I must’ve been around her age, seven or eight — maybe, young enough to wonder how a person could… Continue Reading
Joey’s brave, I’m smart, and we’re leapfrogging pumpkins at midnight. Worse, a monster with a pitchfork is chasing us. We saw the bodies. He can’t let us get away. Hurdling a pumpkin patch, you need a good flashlight. My piece… Continue Reading
I was a good girl today. Really good. Probably better than any eleven-year-old you’ll ever see. It started in the morning when I got out of bed without my mom even having to wake me up. It’s not hard, I… Continue Reading
It smells funny in here like Gran and Gramp’s basement. My nose tickles, but I hold in my sneeze. I’m as silent as a church mouse, just like Mom told me. We’re playing a game. She told me to run… Continue Reading
There’s a hum of wasps in the air as we run past the picnic area with its cracking benches and scrappy bark to the outdoor gym. The equipment is glossy and painted in calming colours, silver and grasshopper green. I… Continue Reading
I saw the sign on my morning walk. It was taped to a lamppost at the end of the block. It read: “Missing Cat. Her name is Princess. Please call. Big reward.” The sign listed a phone number below a… Continue Reading
Gus (4’ 2”), Aidan (4’ even), and Sawyer (4’ 1¾”) spit into their palms, shook hands, and called the meeting of the Sycamore Street Clubhouse (No Girls Allowed!) to order. All three boys took a seat in the garden shed… Continue Reading
The red helmet was missing. They looked for it inside the barn next to the playground, in the gym store, and all over the small building that housed their classrooms. But it had simply disappeared. This was an inconvenience, because… Continue Reading
The Mother marched her son past the kettles and toasters. “I’m returning him,” she told the sales assistant. “This child is not suitable.” The boy fidgeted with the buttons on his school blazer, lip trembling. “Stop fiddling, Jeremy!” The Mother… Continue Reading
I was eleven years old when I learned that penguins, in fact, are incapable of flight. It may seem like a mundane — even embarrassing — revelation, but to me, it changed the course of my life. Five years prior… Continue Reading