The Tree of Solitude is rumoured to be hollow and is sometimes called The Tree of Secrets.
At the semester’s first Vespers, the boys gathered around the sofas in the dormitory parlor, and I sat among the other unknowns – the incoming mid-year dropoffs – “new boys” as opposed to just “boys”, whose parents had decided to wash their hands early or late, and whose place it was now to find their …
Flat on my belly, the coat against the gravel roof, my extra set of eyes polarized against any glare, I sometimes think I can feel every vibration sent up through the frame by the elevator sinking toward the basement and every shift in temperature as the boilers kick in. The snatches of an argument from …
The girl with peacock eyes didn’t go to ordinary school – she went to extraordinary school. There are all kinds of extraordinary gifts out there. Most people just hide theirs. If you’re too bright, you don’t want to be regarded a nerd or impractical or boring. If you’re too creative, you don’t want to be …
My manifesto to the world. I wrote big at first, until the walls were all covered. And when I needed more space, I wrote smaller words onto the larger words, using each letter as a wall. And then words onto those words, too, layering them like Russian matryoshka dolls. Words are like that – they …
There was a bridge that no one crossed, because it stopped where it shouldn’t. Over the water, where it wouldn’t. But lovers went there, and the lost. The slats, though a little dark in spots with mildew, were tightly fitted, and the carriage bolts, though oxidized and smudgy, were firmly seated and strong. It was …
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