They met down at the bottom of the industrial levels, where Peony could see the molton steel poured into form, and thousands of robotic arm shapped and them into rods and panels, which were assembled into frames and fenders and…

It was just an ordinary walk, one I take when I don't have time for something more adventurous. The white pelicans are back for summer – their white bulbous bodies accented by long orange beaks and black eyes. It's unusual…

“Can you keep a secret?” he asked. “Probably, not.” she answered. Not because she couldn’t, she could but she didn’t want to. “Oh, I think you can.” He said. “I don’t want to.” She said. “Why?” he said. “Why assume…

On one of the hottest days of summer so far, the room Albie entered was muggy and fetid, with a mixture of the faint smell of cut oranges left exposed too long to the tempered elements on counter near the…

It's a grand party, up on the penthouse floor, and the walls are shaking from all the feet pounding and music playing and the voices ringing out into the confines of the curtained-off room. Beds everywhere. The secret of

Peony hiked until she was out of breath, but Dyer still kept pushing her to keep up. The moon loomed over, exposing them to attack if any Talon stood by. It was not romantic. It was like a spotlight for…

For decades, I never saw brown pelicans in the tidal creek that flows past my house. Then, one summer, about five years ago, my neighbors and I saw one. The next year, two. Now, every once in a while, like…

Sometimes she fantasized that they came back. That she would see them through the window of the front door. A thin, fragile looking middle aged woman who walked as if she was in pain, Kelly named her Rosa, being helped…

……to rhyme with! Moon, June, spoon, buffoon, croon, loon, noon, soon, toon, The moon, with all its crags and miasmas, all its myths and legends, with all its poisons and poetry, remains the deepest symbol of romance. And I maintain…

The moon is love, not romantic. Romance is superficial; outward affections without any substance or commitment, and limited to only one kind of love that we experience in our lives. It's purely the moment and not the dedication and effort…

She got off the boat and stepped into the unknown. Would she achieve her purpose? Would she fail? Would they laugh at a girl with nothing more than a wicked scar and a missing eye. What if they laughed at…