At the Top of the Stairs Entering the River of Illusions

When I was a kid growing up in Bellerose, Queens, New York City, most houses were pretty much the same. … More

The Bag of Masks

I started imagining one of those cake-decorating bags filled with icing. The kind with a small metal tip at the … More

He sat at his desk for the third morning in a row, staring at the same half-formed sentence. Coffee gone … More

Spirit in the Wind, Flame, and Form When a fire spreads from one tree to another, the flame itself doesn’t … More

Once, in a quiet workshop filled with the scent of varnish and the hum of machines, a wooden puppet stood … More

The whistle blew, sharp and clear, cutting through the crisp morning air. I stood on the platform, suitcase in hand, … More

As the cold winter wind howled outside, Emily cozied up by the fireplace in her Vermont cabin, wrapped in a … More