B. Morris Allen

Sure, I can breathe fire. It's surprising how seldom that comes in handy when you have to change into a two ton dragon to do...

Hanging is a terrible way to kill a man. When you hang a man, he jerks and sways and kicks like a dancing puppet. He...

She had died from overheating. It was an unlikely death, in the star-spark darkness beyond the atmosphere, where the outside temperature measured in single digits....

The tide seeped away, grey water into black sand. It left her lime-green boots uncovered, anomalous. Just as well, thought Sarosh, turning her back on...

It’s about impressions. First impressions, last impressions, the creased and corrugated impressions that life leaves on our skin as it wears us down to our...

I’ve been down in the heart of Wrinkletown, stood in the Blemish itself, with unmasked people as far as the eye can see. You get...

They say, “Don’t go on Wolverton Mountain if you’re looking for a wife.” Old Claude says that, anyway, and he don’t have a wife, so...

I collect dragon tears. It isn't difficult; they're insidious and subtle, and they seep through my armor and into my skin like ink, leaving me...