Nikola Champlin
The Lemon Tree

The Lemon Tree Why do I come here, at night, when the shadows are darkest?   The shade of the lemon tree is as black […]


Matchbox by Nikola Champlin My fingers, which should be familiar, belonged to another woman. The splinter melted the plastic, blackened the wood a coin-sized scorch […]

The Jötnar

My daughter came in at twilight when the snow looks blue. She burst in the front door and said, “Daddy! I saw a man walking […]