John George sat on a log. The Pacific Northwest stretched out before him in all its damp winter wonder; though he yearned to be somewhere else, here he was, stranded by the Department of Justice on this hectare of rain… Continue Reading
The forest wrapped itself around me, the trees reaching up to almost touch each other in the canopy. Light filtered down in patches, speckling all around me in shimmering warmth. There was the odd waft of cut pine, a spider… Continue Reading
The keeper of the shed by the forest met us on the path. She was expecting us because it was Midwinter Eve. “I have lit a fire in the grate and there are plenty of logs stacked up outside.” She… Continue Reading
There was no way we’d reach the next town before nightfall. Hunter was shuffling through the leaves, eyes half-closed, muttering curses to himself. We’d have to spend the night among the trees. Our music would have kept us safe, but… Continue Reading
There is a young tree who lives near the edge of a forest. He is small — a side effect of his age — and he has very few branches. But his leaves are a gorgeous shade of bright green,… Continue Reading
As Brian struggles with the condom, there’s a creaking outside the cabin. His hands freeze. He and Natalie lock eyes, their breath smoking. They listen for several seconds — wind scattering leaves across the wraparound porch, branches shivering. Brian slides… Continue Reading
Bill couldn’t breathe. The heavy, wet body of the helicopter pilot crushed painfully against his chest, lolling over his neck in a grotesque hug. Bill swung helplessly at him as the aircraft groaned and lunged in its perch. All Bill… Continue Reading