Buckley Harrison wished his baby sister had never been born. This was on his eighth birthday. Little Bella, a mere six months at the time, had ruined his party with her constant crying and screaming, and she then threw up… Continue Reading
The song on the radio was from high school. She and her friend used to sing it as loud as possible when they drove to soccer practice. She would’ve turned it up, but she was in the backseat of her… Continue Reading
If I ignore the door hanging half off its hinges and the swallow’s nest surveying the dust from beneath the exposed center beam, Nana’s cottage is little changed from fifteen years ago, when Dad left me here to “find my… Continue Reading
I think I did everything right. My first wish was that the Genie would come back in a week. I know it sounds frivolous, but I felt certain that rushing a set of wishes would just get me monkey-pawed. I… Continue Reading
A loud ding echoes across my bedroom, indicating that my client has completed the proper steps to summon me. I float across ivory-white marble columns that are inlaid with sapphires, rubies, and emeralds. With a room full of treasures of… Continue Reading
The wishing tree is a twisted thorn on the brow of Mill Hill, one of those trees that has been shaped by centuries of wind into a crouching, defensive posture. The local school girls — of which I suppose I… Continue Reading
At the end of the day, Marcus had five good reasons to think the universe was out to get him. Everything started simple enough. He had left his job at the office, sipping a cup of coffee, and slowly made… Continue Reading
Water flows endlessly over her feet. Stone eyes watch another coin flipped. It sparkles in the sunlight, splashes, sinks to the bottom. Nothing happens. She’s witnessed countless tokens given, every currency imaginable. Guineas, francs, nickels, shekels, pounds. Most tossed with… Continue Reading
“Dad! Dad, wake up!” Robert had never regretted anything quite so much as he regretted this cabin excursion. His kids were at that age where everything was a production. Eleven-year-old Blythe was convinced she knew everything, and when eight-year-old Brayden… Continue Reading
The second thing I asked my fairy godmother for was a cookie, the kind my mother used to make. At first she didn’t understand me. “I told you, I can’t do that sort of thing,” she said. And then, “Oh,… Continue Reading