Fictional Worlds

At age nineteen, Robot Girl had dropped out of the most prestigious university in the country, had no objectives in life, and was now stuck pet sitting for the lovely lesbian couple at her old church.

After the stoplights go to flashing red and the bars make their last calls, Park’s All-Night Ramyun and Snack Emporium lights up, its warm yellow lanterns beckoning customers from the street.

The domovoi is protecting them. Sofiya knows this, even as her mother’s dismissive remarks prod the fireplace like skewers. When the flames burn to embers and the ashes in the fireplace thicken…

It’s tough being a monster nowadays. With the constant threat of terrorism, global warming, and yet another Michael Bay film, the average person just doesn’t have enough fear left at the end of the…

Laurel hadn’t had time lately to listen to the stars sing. Sophomore classes had kicked her butt up one side of the holler and back down the other. She’d been okay missing the stars until the school’s…

Once upon a time, there was a princess. Does she have to be a princess? Couldn’t she be the daughter of a merchant, or a scholar, or an accountant? An accountant? What would an accountant be doing in…

When people stay in hotel rooms, they suddenly turn into toddlers. Weird, creative, screwed-up toddlers. Let’s smear jam on the wall! Let’s leave apple cores in the drawers! Let’s hide used nappies…

A bookshop on a hill. Two front doors, two walkways lined with blank slates and grass, two identical signs welcoming customers to the First and Last Page, and a great blue building in the middle…

Their progress through the woods had slowed to a stagger, but they kept going. They had to. Jane shoved one booted foot through the layers of fallen leaves, then the other. Imagination kept her fear…

While Marya was usually excellent at imagining the worst, opening a portal to another world while crocheting had never really crossed her mind. She’d been determined to learn how to crochet once she…

The Game of Mao has only one rule: don’t explain the rules to the game of Mao. It’s the only rule we may be told — the rest are clouded in secrecy and it is up to us to figure them out through trial…

It’s the first weekend of summer holidays and we’re piling into the backseat of Annette’s dinky old Honda headed to some house party at the far edge of town, passing a bottle of rum and coke between…

Sophie had a fickle heart. She didn’t know at first what fickle meant—the word reminded her of tossing a coin and waiting to see which way it lands—but her mother kept using it, and her sisters…

Macaroni’s workstation is set up just the way he likes it. He has a little laptop with little buttons for his little golden paws, adjusted to a comfortable height. His scratch post is within easy…