Noting the arcane symbol carved into the gnarly oak tree in the massively overgrown yard, Seksan felt his stomach twist, but he was ready. After all, the witch hunter's talent and enterprise had kept him intact this long. When he reached the door, it blew open with a blast, and Seksan entered. Predictably, the air… Continue reading The stench of thaumaturgy
A serious limerick Having never before experienced the seas, The tykes feared going in past their knees; Leery of foamy waves, They waded, trying to be brave, T'wards their folks' mirthful hoots in the breeze. A silly limerick Seeing only the adults' bobbing heads, The tykes took their parents for dead; 'Oh, gosh golly!' they… Continue reading Mirthful hoots, or: Bobbing heads
The Skeptic's Kaddish 🇮🇱 
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