A troupe of goblin merchants sat on stone benches that encircled a crackling bonfire. The party totaled six. Each was known to the others by a name that echoed his most prominent feature: Tomcat, Shrill, Rodentia, Snail, Fuzzball, and Badger. They sat together—peering at one another through the flames—reminiscing through boastful tales told of the tricks they had played on maidens unaware, each goblin gaining his turn to speak when a spark sputtered towards him…
Author Archives: zreshicaia
The Pacifier
It’s a little thing / To soothe a terrible cry / When nothing real is needed / But the motion of the act…
Knifed
The flesh wound wasn’t deep / I am not cut, but I bleed / Not in a pool beneath the skin / Blue and black and bruised…
Notorious
“Grandpa! Grandpa!” five-year-old Beth shouted.
She stormed into her grandparents’ farmhouse in muddy boots. The door to the farmhouse was rickety and ancient with gaps to the outside along the frame, making an easy entrance for flies, and the chilling breeze of early Spring. The house shook as Beth slammed the door shut…
The Event at Papa Randy’s Diner
Papa Randy’s Diner was a classic. Customers sat in bright-red booths. They gorged themselves on overflowing baskets of fries and meaty, palm-sized hamburgers. The waitresses—all young women in their mid-teens to early twenties—wore cotton-candy-colored shirts. Their matching skirts rested flirtatiously, just above the knees, accompanied by their white, half-aprons. The color of their uniforms stood out against the checkered floor of the diner, where the waitresses scurried about, as they took their customers’ orders, and served them…
About the Author
We live in a cruel and unfair world, overcome by suffering. I write to provide temporary relief for myself and my readers. In the worlds of my stories, justice is true, kindness is real, and adventure lives on. I cannot fix broken relationships, fill empty pockets, or satisfy the greatest of needs, but I can offer empathy through my characters, and a short-lived escape into worlds where happy endings are not beyond reach. I transform emotions into words and words into stories—that is my gift from the Creator, and I consider it my responsibility to use that gift to benefit others. Not everyone will benefit from my writing, but some will, and for the sake of those—be they few or many—I write.
Endlesslore 