Hello, my friends!

Friendly reminder that today is the LAST DAY that my books, Of Mice and Fairies and The Birdwoman, will be FREE on Amazon.

Of Mice and Fairies is a charming collection of fairy tales written by a forest witch, in the form of a series of letters to her niece. They spin tales of the adventures of her little forest friends: a fairy, a gnome, several mice, ducks, and, of course, Quiggly S. Minster, a troublesome troll with a greedy, grumbly sort of temperament and a nasty temper.

The Birdwoman is a collection of my short stories, spanning several genres and each only a page or two long. The stories feature, among other things, a runaway boy on a slave hunter’s ship, the child of a returning soldier, a mentally ill woman adjusting to her asylum, and the last refuge fleeing a dying city.

I hope you enjoy both of these books! The giveaway ENDS at midnight TONIGHT, so get your copies now before it’s over!

Happy reading!

Woodpiles, FREE Books, and Snowy Mornings

My house has a wood burning stove.

It’s beautiful. I love it. In the evenings before I go to bed, I light a fire and turn off all the lights and watch the firelight flicker on my wood floor and let all the heaviness of the day slid off.

Then, if it’s cold enough, I wake up every two hours in the middle of the night to keep the fire burning.

Because if I don’t, I will freeze.

Correction. I will not freeze. My cat would never allow that, simply because if I freeze, she’s going to freeze too, and that would be a tragedy of epic proportions. If I miss the alarm, she screams at me until I wake up, because I have the responsibility of keeping her warm.

I love her so much.

Thus, my wood burning stove, and, consequently, my woodpile is very important. I spent a good part of my afternoon yesterday chopping wood, and because I am kind and love you all, I did not take pictures.

You do not want to see me chop wood. It’s embarrassing. I do it because it must be done, but I do not claim to be good at it.

So now, my woodpile is stacked high, and life is good. We are not going to dwell on the fact that I had to run outside in my shorts and snow boots this morning because it was snowing rather hard and the wind had knocked the tarp off the wood. Wet, freezing wood is no good to anyone.

But, as I said, we are not going to dwell on that.

So, because it is snowing—and I love snow—and because today is Saturday and the weekend, and because I have a full woodpile, I would like to remind all of you lovely people that my books—Of Mice and Fairies and The Birdwoman—are both FREE on Amazon this week. I cannot invite you all to my house for a cup of hot chocolate in front of my wood burning stove, so this will have to be the next best thing. Brew a cup of tea (or coffee), snuggle up with a good blanket, and enjoy one of these books on me.

Happy Saturday, my friends! Stay warm!




Of Mice and Fairies by A.R. Geiger in leaves
Of Mice and Fairies by A.R. Geiger

Today, we are celebrating!

Several things, in fact.

Firstly, it is November. And we have snow. And I love snow, especially when I know my woodpile is going to last me through the month.

That is definitely a good feeling.

Secondly, this blog recently passed its one year anniversary, AND reached 100 followers! YAY! So, this weekend we are doing giveaways!

Double YAY!

Of Mice and Fairies and The Birdwoman
Of Mice and Fairies and The Birdwoman

Both of my books (The Birdwoman, and Of Mice and Fairies) are FREE on Amazon for the next five days, so hop over and get yourself a copy on me. I love you all! Thank for taking this journey with me and making this year such a very, very special one!

In Which Wignilian is Heroic


I must be completely honest with you, dearest of readers, and admit that the old mill down by the pond is not really a part of Bushkyn Hollow. It is, in fact, in a different part of the forest altogether, and one must walk quite ten minutes from one to the other.

But the mill is every bit as dear to my heart as Bushkyn Hollow, and I can’t imagine one without the other. I often bring my notebook and pen to a quiet little nook that I know of, right beneath the mill wheel. The rocks are covered with thick moss, the air is cool and misty, and I can see right across the still pond into the woods on the other side. Occasionally, a deer or a fox will come by for a drink and a pleasant chat, or the frogs that live in the reeds and rushes will swim over to pass the time of day. Frogs are remarkably proud creatures and think very much of themselves, but they can occasionally be pleasant, especially if the day is warm and they have found a good many fat flies to catch.

But perhaps my favorite of all the animals in and around the Old Mill is Wignilian Finch. He is a great friend of mine, and sometimes will consent to ride about in the pocket of my dress while I am out walking. I do enjoy having him with me, but I sometimes suspect that he allows such an indignity simply because he would prefer not to walk himself. As I have said before, he is an exceptionally lazy mouse…

My book, Of Mice and Fairies, is available now Here! I hope you enjoy the rest of this story, and others like it, as much as I have.

In Which Belinda Meets Her Neighbors

I’ve told you about Belinda Munkindot, have I not? I’ve told you about her sweet button nose and her dreadful vanity and her most appalling foolishness. I must have, because, to tell you the truth, she would be absolutely livid if she thought that I had forgotten to tell of all her adventures. She does so like to be talked about.

Perhaps I had better remind you, just in case you are to meet her in your garden after dusk falls. You might see her flitting from flower to flower among the fragrant shadows, very like a little butterfly herself, and it should be most terribly awkward if you were to forget her name. I’m afraid she can be quite unforgiving.

How shall I describe Belinda to you? I suppose if you, not understanding the fairy language of course, were to look at Belinda under a magnifying glass, you would find her to be wonderfully fine. Her clothes are the very latest fashion, and she is most shamefully particular about her looks. To be perfectly honest, (for how can a storyteller be anything but?) she spends much more time primping before her mirror than she ever does with her nose in a book. And as anyone knows, such habits can only come to ruin in the end.

Unfortunately, if I were to tell you some of the things that Belinda has said, you might not think her so terribly fine. Looks can be deceiving, they say, and with Belinda this must be admitted to be the case. I once heard a frog say (and of course I am only repeating for the sake of the story, for I am terribly fond of Belinda, despite her faults) that she hadn’t a full thought in her head at any one time. And while that may be true, it wasn’t extremely kind of him to point it out. But frogs very seldom are the sort to be very kind.

In fact, being the foolish sort, Belinda has attracted more than her share of attention from frogs. She provokes them, you see, and they find a great deal of pleasure in saying the most naughty, unkind things to her. I think they quite like to see her angry.

Which, of course, is evidence of a very nasty kind of temperament. But what else can one expect from a frog?

The rest of this story, and the remainder of my fairytales, are available now Here. Please enjoy!

Of Mice and Fairies

Today, my new book, Of Mice and Fairies, is being released to the world.

It’s very exciting.

And intimidating.

But mostly exciting.

My gorgeous, wonderful, talented sister, E. Noel, illustrated Of Mice and Fairies for me. She’s an artist.

Like, a real one.

It’s super cool.

My mom always told us that we should publish a book together. When I was still writing stories in the notes section of my iPod touch and E. Noel was drawing dogs that were basically boxes with ears, my mother was sure that we were destined to work together. Like, we were written in the stars, kind of destined. Somewhere in the midst of my clumsy writing and my sister’s odd drawings, my mother saw greatness. We were going to publish something together, she was sure.

I laughed at her. And told her that it was never going to happen. I didn’t want to be a writer, and I would never publish a book with my sister.

Of Mice and Fairies is dedicated to her.

I have eaten my words.

As an added bonus, and because I love you all, the Kindle versions of both of my books—Of Mice and Fairies and The Birdwoman—are available on Amazon for FREE for the next few days! I truly hope you all enjoy this special piece of my heart!

Of Mice and Lilies


This story, as with all the very best and greatest stories, begins with an impossibility.

After all, I am telling this story, and I have seen a great many impossibilities in my time. It comes of being a dreamer, and of thinking like a writer. All writers deal in impossibilities, of course. It’s how we make our living.

I shall not, dearest reader, go to the trouble to explain just how a mouse might fall in love with a lily. Indeed, such an impossibility will be a hard thing to convince anyone of, except to say that the mouse—a most rascally, clever fellow by the name of Wignilian Finch—had a mind of his own and a tendency to want everything he was quite sure he couldn’t have.

On the particular morning I am thinking of, Wignilian was in a place no self-respecting mouse ought to be. His brothers and sisters, aunts, uncles, and cousins were scurrying about the floor and walls of the grain silo, just as any decent mouse might, but Wignilian had eaten his fill of grain for the morning, and as he was an exceptionally lazy mouse and didn’t like to scuttle when he didn’t have to, he had wandered off. Now, he was poking his nose about the reeds and rushes, the slimy mud and sticky algae of the mill pond, and what he could have wanted there in the first place, I couldn’t tell you.

He was looking—I suppose—for something grand and wonderful to steal away and hide beneath his nest in the grain silo. He rather liked such things, mainly because he enjoyed bragging about them to his smaller cousins and refusing to allow them even one peek, lest they should spoil his prize. He had found nothing of interest among the reeds, and as they had laughed at him for the grain dust in his fur, he had wandered on. At last, on the stone wall beside the creaking, dripping mill wheel, he caught sight of a lily floating gently in the center of the pond.

The lily was quite the loveliest, whitest, most charming treasure that Wignilian had ever laid eyes on, and right away he began to ponder how he might have it for himself. He had no boat, of course, and as mice are not known to be champion swimmers—particularly in ponds that harbor a great deal of pike and trout—he found himself quite without an idea. But, besides being rather lazy, Wignilian was also stubborn. He sat himself down on the edge of that mossy stone wall, propped his chin in his paws, twitched his muddy little nose, and began to think.

He thought for quite a long time. All day, I believe, but not a single brilliant scheme occurred to him. The lily floated peacefully far out of reach, looking whiter and more beautiful with each passing minute. Wignilian could not stand it. He chewed his paws, he chewed his tail, he even bit the end clean off one of his fine, sharp claws, but he could not find a solution.

At last, when the sun was sinking beneath the woods, a great, scaly, ugly pike came swimming right to the base of the wall, poked his hooked jaws and large head out of the water, and inquired, as pleasantly as any pike can, what could possibly be the matter? Now Wignilian knew better than to talk to a pike. He really did. But just at that moment, he was so distressed about the lily that he told the big fish all about it.

The pike listened and nodded sympathetically, and I do believe he even summoned a tear or two for the little mouse’s plight. Wignilian was touched. He ventured a step nearer, and a step nearer, so as to be sure every last word of his sad tale could be heard. At last the pike shook his head and said, in a voice quite trembling with emotion, “Intolerable. There must be a way—” Then the pike grinned, a monstrous, toothy grin. “Of course! I have an idea. Hop down onto my head, and I’ll bring you right over to it. You’re such a little mouse that it wouldn’t be any trouble at all!” And he continued to grin that terrible, wicked grin that I am sure he thought was most friendly and inviting.

I am sorry to say that for all his cleverness, Wignilian almost fell for it. He took two steps forward without so much as a thought, and it wasn’t until he saw those sharp, shiny white teeth that he began to wonder if the pike might have some other purpose for his kindness. He took another tentative step forward, twitching his little nose and wondering. The pike, seeing that Wignilian was hesitating, unhooked his great jaws and sprang upward with a mighty splash, snapping at him with all his might.

Wignilian squeaked with fright and made a dash for safety. He was spry, for all his laziness, and all the pike got for his trouble was a single whisker and half of poor Wignilian’s tail. It wasn’t quite the prize the pike was hoping for, but it was far more than Wignilian would have liked to give. He scuttled away, trembling from his nose to his tiny paws, and I dare say he never gave one more thought to that lily. And I am quite sure that he never once dared go anywhere near the old mill pond again, not even when his Great Uncle Cornelius Fellbottom gave a party on the wall to welcome the first of the merfolk to their pond.

But that, dear reader, is another story.

Book Reviews: “The Birdwoman” and “Evocation”

An awesome review for my short story book. Thank you!

Kristin Houlihan, Writer

I don’t usually read short stories, though not really for any particular reason, but the two collections I’m reviewing here today make me wonder whether I should more actively seek them out. When I was brand new to Twitter a few short months ago I went on a book-accumulating spree (translation: I followed lots of authors, and every time an author advertised a book as free to download from Amazon I clicked the link and downloaded the book), and these are two of the books I happened to “buy for free,” as Amazon puts it. In any case, they are both worth actually buying.

The Birdwoman: . . . and other short storiesThe Birdwoman and Other Short Stories by A.R. Geiger

This collection of stories is phenomenal. I was captivated from the very beginning, commenting on my Kindle after the first story, Stowaway, “I want more!” The stories are truly short–several pages, on average–but they pack in…

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