Shreddy and the Silver Egg

by Mary E. Lowd

Originally published in Tales from the Guild: Music to Your Ears, September 2014


“…he, of course, would not care for the baby that hatched from this egg. No, he would eat it!”

There is nothing better than a patch of early evening sunlight, especially with the quiet strains of an opera playing on the Red-Haired Woman’s television in the other room.  There is nothing worse than watching an uncouth dog, lolling unappreciatively, in the single square of sun left on the kitchen floor, insensible to both the golden warmth and the soft singing in the distance.

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House Dreams

‪I never dream about my house. I dream weird new houses, which made sense when it looked like we’d have to sell this house and move away. But this morning, I think my brain tried to dream about my house. The result was a strange hybrid of the bones of the house I grew up in, set on the hill where I live now, with all of the furniture stripped away and stolen. Continue reading “House Dreams”