Stay tuned for more and check below for my available published works…

Short stories:

  • “Figure Skating for Supernaturals” at Youth Imagination Magazine: This is an urban fantasy story about inclusion and following one’s passion told through the eyes of fairy.
  • “Raven’s Talent“ at Story Shares: “Raven’s Talent” is a middle grade, short story about a young aspiring writer and blossoming romance.
  • “Pumpkin’s Purpose“ at Zombie Pirate Publishing’s Flash Fiction Addiction anthology: Ever wonder what happened to the pumpkin that turned into Cinderella’s carriage?
  • “Interview with a Word Vampire” at Clarendon House Publication’s flash fiction anthology ‘Blaze’: A silly story inspired by my own experiences as an author imagined as a unique type of vampire.
  • “A Deal with Hemlock“ at Dastaan World Magazine: Hemlock, a cruel fairy, teaches a hard lesson to an innocent human who is grieving the loss of her mother as well as learning to accept herself.
  • “Glasses to the Afterlife“ at Siren’s Call Publications Ezine: “Glasses to the Afterlife” is a thriller/fantasy horror about grief, death, and responsibility.
  • “No Rest for the Winner“ at Spillwords: Esports is a rising star in the entertainment industry. This story explores the behind-the-scenes world of professional players.
  • “Just a Daughter“ at Flash Fiction Magazine Online: In a world of old-fashioned views and oppressed women, one girl sacrifices herself to the Fae realm to make a difference.
  • “Someone to Listen“ at The Furtive Dalliance: “Someone to Listen” is a short and sweet story written with a dear friend, Rachel Hunt-Bailey, in mind. It is the story of love and loss through the eyes of a child.
  • “Admitted“ at CafeLit: “Admitted” is a quick paranormal thriller about a woman who takes revenge. This is based on the true, scary stories about how women were treated in the medical industry in the past.
  • “What Happened to Asher“ at Clarendon House Publications ‘Rapture’ anthology: At the hospital, Asher is both abandoned and meets the love of his life. What “Happened to Asher” is a realistic romance that is found in sickness and survives even when the body fails. “What Happened to Asher” won best story in the Rapture anthology.
  • “Above” at Dragon Soul Press in the ‘Lost Love’ anthology: Sometimes moving on is the happiest ending of all.
  • “Playroom” at Pixie Forest Publishing in the ‘At Death’s Door’ anthology: Best friends are found in unlikely places- like the hospital playroom.
  • “The Grass is Golden” at the United Disability Services’ Kaleidoscope ‘A Season of Hope’ magazine: Life always looks better on the other side, but happiness might be right wherever Lily is standing.

Microfiction:

  • “The Midwitch” at Blood Song Books Curses and Cauldrons anthology

Poetry:

  • “Wolf“ at The Free Library of the Internet Void
  • “Anxiety“ at Clarendon House Publications Cadence poetry anthology

Magic the Gathering Inspired Poetry:

Free to Read Microfiction and Flash Stories:

Jellyfish

Mama came back as a jellyfish. I knew it was her when the water called. 

The water doesn’t call much anymore. Not since we moved to a new foster home in the middle of town. My big sister Sammy says it calls and we just can’t hear it. But I have super ears. That’s what mama always said when I heard a boat floating leagues above. 

But I couldn’t hear the oil. Oil doesn’t make a sound when it’s poured into the ocean. I was napping and Sammy raced a school of fish. Mama was collecting seaweed when it happened. Sammy says she’d still be alive if she wasn’t out getting my lunch. 

Mama screamed for us to swim, swim as hard as we could away from the dark water that slithers around in the blue and burns your arm. It chased us all the way to shore and Sammy swears she saw Mama die and the dark water wrap around her.

We stayed on the sand too long, Sammy says. The sun melted our tails and fins and we looked like them. Humans found us and they said they rescued us but I think we rescued ourselves. Our new family doesn’t know. We’re supposed to live in the water, even though these legs are slow and heavy. 

So when I heard Mama’s voice telling us to come back, I woke Sammy and we snuck out. She found the way from town to the seaside. We saw Mama the jellyfish, (something called a soul or a spirit Sammy says, but I just saw a big ‘ol squishy glow). 

My babies. Where there are humans there is dark water, and nets, and… and danger. 

“They’re not mean,” I say. Sammy elbows me in the gut. “But they’re not. They just don’t go swimming enough.” 

You can stay, if you like. Or you can return to the ocean and your tails will grow again. 

Sammy lets go of my hand for the first time since we woke up and jumps in head first. She giggles and splashes around until I can’t see her anymore. Cold air makes my arms bumpy and shake. Sammy’s head pops up in the distance and she waves at me. 

“What’re you waiting for?”

Mama the jellyfish fades to a yellow orange and I think she’s smiling. 

Stay. And tell them no more dark water. Tell them no more bottles and paper and traps. 

I nod and wipe away the tears except nobody can see me. They never make it down my face and into the water. I’m not a part of it anymore. 

I wave to Sammy’s shadowy shape and say goodbye.

“Love you Mama,” I tell her but the jellyfish glow is so bright I can’t see anything. And then it’s just the moon in the sky above the ocean. 

I trace our steps back and wonder if Sammy will miss me. Will she miss walking? Will I miss my tail? 

I climb back through the window and curl up in bed with bent legs. I’m not home but it’s okay because tomorrow I’ll tell them no more dark water. 

See You After Surgery

Nausea snuck up on me as the anesthesia wore off. Still unable to open my eyes, I settled on merely listening. Doctors spoke softly. My family responded in the same hushed tones.

I barely breathed to keep every sound out of the way. They said I wasn’t old enough to understand. I could almost hear my mother nod. A squeak, a stifle, a swallow, every noise magnified in the darkness. I still couldn’t open my eyes. The doctor said I was lucky, that I would ‘get used to it’.

Then I realized it, my eyelids were already up. I stared at nothing.

Miscarriage: a Haiku

The experience

Different for each mother

All lose blood and life

Gray Versus Green

Gray Vs Green won Honorable Mention at the Roswell Awards for short science fiction from around the world. You can check out other award winners and honorable mentions as well as see Emily’s recognition here: Roswell Award Winners 2019

My legs dangled against the side. I looked down as dust fell for forty stories. The height no longer scared me. As our survival supply depleted, my mind was too preoccupied to worry about falling off a skyscraper. I scanned the gray valley. Seeing through the layers of pollution proved challenging. Buildings upon concrete floors covered every inch I could see.

“Robinson!”

I heard Sam call my name. I ignored it knowing I did not have the answer they wanted.

“Robin? Rob,” Sam said again while crouching down next to me. Normally I would answer to any and all of those names. I just couldn’t bear to share the bad news. Finally, I shook my head as I stared across the city refusing to let our eyes meet.

“We’ve got to get moving,” Sam continued. “We’ve gathered everything we can find, wagons, wheelbarrows, and any tanks that won’t fit we can carry. But the plants aren’t coming back. We have to go to them.”

I sighed and pulled the oxygen mask from my face. I hated the stauch feeling of the air. The tightening in your throat that felt like a vine strangling me while it laughed in my face. I hated the plants. They left us to die.

“Sam, they hate us. You can’t reason with a plant.”

“So what? We give up?” he asked.

“There’s other cities out there. There are places where humans and plants live in harmony. Radio transmission came in. They said the plants returned.”

“Stop lying. You’re known for that Robinson.”

“It’s not a lie.”

“Bullcrap. You know as well as I do that no transmissions have come here in over a decade.”

“My dad told me about it. He told me the plants will return.” I pulled the binoculars to my eyes to search for any speck of green in the distance.

“Your dad is dead. We are all that’s left Robinson. Humans killed the plants-”

“And this is their revenge,” I interrupted.

“It is their survival.” Sam corrected. “Once they see our suffering they’ll understand. They’ve been where we are now. They will empathize.”

I sighed again and put the mask back on my face. I took a deep breath in, relishing the refreshment of oxygen filling my lungs. I missed being free. I missed running through the streets and falling down onto a patch of grass as my dad chased and tickled me. Those memories were fading fast. Most of the images I recalled of plant and humans living side by side, were conjured from stories dad had told me. They consisted of large parks built and nestled in giant cities where gardeners tended to trees and children played.

Then people spread concrete. They started taking less and less stock in the importance of the other living things we shared this planet with. As they chopped trees down and left flowers to wilt, the plants finally got fed up. They were sick of seeing their kin die.

Eventually, every single last living green entity moved on. They burst through cracks in concrete as they slowly made their way out of the city. Roots destroyed homes. Earth overcame roads. Busy lives distracted the people until it was too late. Sam placed a can of beans next to me then touched my shoulder while standing up.

“I’ll be down soon,” I said.

“I know,” Sam said. “Because we can’t do this without you.”

Sam was right. I was the survivors’ hope. When mother died, dad and I planted a lemon tree in her memory. I called it Lily after mom’s middle name. Lily stayed the longest. When every other plant, tree, and blade of grass had abandoned our city Lily remained. When dad died I didn’t know how to properly care for her. I returned home from his memorial and our backyard was empty. Lily left. My resentment grew. I vowed to stay in the city and wait for their return. We were humans, after all, we didn’t need to go groveling after the plants begging for their help. Unfortunately, we had no other option. I caved.

The journey to the edge of the city took days. Our canned goods, the oxygen tanks, our energy, everything ran low. Finally we saw green on the horizon. I tripped nearly running toward the luscious grass that beckoned me. I crashed into the street scraping my knee. Blood poured from my leg but I couldn’t take my eyes off of the thin brown branch draped over my foot.

“Lily,” I whispered.

The plant flicked her leaf in acknowledgement. I pulled the frail trunk into my lap. Brown leaves fell from her sickly branches. She was dying. The tree required special care in our environment, after she left she stopped receiving it. She tried to make it out of the city but couldn’t, not alone. I picked her up, a branch nearly snapped off. The group gathered around me to marvel at the last plant on city grounds. One leaf remained. I carefully ran my finger along its darkening edges. I knew she needed me, and everything changed. I felt my heartbeat start racing. I changed.

I stood and led the group. We walked the last few steps off the asphalt and into the soft green earth. No wind blew but the plants all rustled. They felt our ominous human steps toward them. As I laid Lily down in a patch of damp soil the ground rumbled beneath our feet. Trees, bushes, and flowers encircled our group. Then we knew. We needed them as much as they needed us.

A child placed a small flag into the soil next to Lily. This signified a new city. A city where a balance between humans and plants would exist. The plants rustled louder and louder. The sound formed music. It was their agreement. Finally, we were together again. The decades of carelessness and disregard came to an end. In gray versus green nobody wins.