The Verdant Circuit: A Goblin's World The Verdant Circuit is not a normal world. It loops like a coiled cable and hums faintly when you listen close. At its glowing heart sits The Pixel Swamp — my cozy home of frogs, mushrooms, and little humming la...

The Land of Tharnelune Here lies the Hollow Vale, where small dragons learn the weight of silence. North, the Singing Mountain dreams in stone, its heart still glowing with the songs of old. East, the Glimmerroot Woods murmur in many voices, roots d...

There once was a goblin with a little glass jar who swore she could catch the best raindrops. Not just any drops—no no—she only wanted the ones that laughed. She would run out in the storm, hopping from puddle to puddle, holding her jar open. When a...

Chapter 1: Smolliver Quills and the Committee Coup Smolliver Quills was not your average hedgehog. For one thing, he wore a little vest with tiny brass buttons. For another, he had just signed a one-year lease on Unit 3B of the Chestnut Grove Apartm...

Pajama-sky giggles, marshmallows in flight, I carry a sunrise to chase off the night. One morning, a goblin woke up to paint the sunrise. She had her brushes ready, her jar of green juice, and even a frog assistant to hold the palette. But just as s...

Long ago, when the world was still damp and half-finished, the Moon dropped a bead of silver light into a murky swamp. Where it landed, the mud bubbled and two shapes climbed out side by side:one with long ears and clever claws,one with bulging eyes...

You didn’t book Site 14. Nobody does. The ranger says it’s “available” with a little smile that’s more warning than welcome. But when you arrive, there’s nothing strange—just a big cedar, a view of the surf, and a battered picnic table with freshly ...

You didn’t notice the first time. Not really. You were just a kid then, knees dusty with campsite dirt, watching steam rise from your hot chocolate like a little spell. A squirrel hopped up on the picnic table—bold, brown, twitchy. He looked you dea...

The Vending Machine of Longing There is a cliff on the edge of a forgotten moon. No roads lead there, no signs point the way. But if you’re very tired… and very quiet… sometimes the mist shows you the path. At the edge of that cliff sits a vending m...