A.R. Geiger

My Blog

  • Just So Stories

    Storytelling is an art. Some books are a little slapdash in their approach, a little clumsy. Some are all about the story and the characters, with little or no interest in how it is presented. The words are just that. Words. Tools to get the idea across and nothing more. Their stories are fast-paced and…

  • The Well

    The dogs are behind me. I can hear them baying in the trees, barking and howling as the scent of my blood drives them wild. They’re close now, too close, and I curse myself for a fool for coming out in broad daylight. I know better. The well is abandoned, covered in flowering vine and…

  • Henry and Ribsy

    How many favorite authors is one person allowed to have? I’m hoping the number isn’t too low. For me, there’s going to have to be some kind of extension on my limit, because I can think of ten or twelve authors right now that would—and should—be right on top of that list. Some of them…

  • Painter

    I set up my easel between a booth selling flowers and a clown selling balloon animals. Benjamin, I think his name is. I saw him last time I came to this fair. A nice man. The woman with the flowers looks more intimidating. She casts a quick look at my portfolio of caricatures and sniffs,…

  • The Gap In My Shelves

    I’m going to do something totally weird. I mean, seriously? Who writes a blog post on a book that they can’t remember? Desperate people, that’s who. This post is about the gap in my shelves, about the book that should be in there but isn’t. It’s about the book I lost. Weird, right? But bear…

  • Ghost

    She comes in the night, after all the others are sleeping. I hear her slip past my door, climb the stairs over my room to the attic. The hollow boards creak under her weight. She doesn’t make much noise. None of the others have ever heard her, but I hear her every night. Sometimes, I…