April 27, 1986
The comforting notes of Babushka’s music box make my heart shatter.
What would she have thought, standing in her granddaughter’s shoes, watching the sky morph as radiation pours into the air? Even in the pain, I imagine she would’ve known what to do. How to help. How to make a difference.
The harsh lights in the interrogation room stung my eyes as Detective Ironflutter smacked her police-issued wand against her palm and fluttered her wings to loom over me. “C’mon, Ivory. Just tell us where the fairy godmother’s wand is.”
I leaned back but forced my eyes to meet hers.
Akiak’s life was a tapestry of legends.
She knew it was Silla, Keeper of Sky, who glazed the night with northern lights when he was lovesick for the Sun. The tears Tapeesa shed for her lost daughter caused the tiny arctic flowers to bloom on the hillsides in the warm season.
A light scratching within the cavernous walls sent new goosebumps racing down Aniya’s arms. She couldn’t see anything in the shadows, only heard unsettling noises, followed by a slow, barely audible dripping of water. She strained her eyes as if squinting would provide clarity, but when the cave remained resolutely dark,
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“Well,” Louisa said, staring at the vast array of cups lining the cave walls, “which one is it?”
Andy turned in place, the assorted accessories hanging from his pack protesting the sudden movement. He adjusted his glasses, bringing the hundreds of wine glasses, champagne flutes, ornate chalices, hefty beer steins, delicate tea cups, and…
Yohva chitters nervously beside me, white fur bristling down the length of her thorax. I whistle a few notes from a half-remembered lullaby and place a reassuring hand above her first pair of eyes. She settles into the shade of the smooth-stone building but keeps her focus on the tree line.
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Detective Bixby kneels next to the broken glass. He lifts a tear-shaped shard in his callused fingers. Is it the shape of a tear or half of a broken heart? Either way, it reminds him of the woman he loves. The woman he lost… or, more accurately, never had. With a mournful sigh
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Torryn’s stomach tightened under their stares, and he flexed his grip on the ancient hilt. The sword’s flat steel lay cold against his shoulder, overly heavy in both weight and responsibility.
“That’s…” The old man at the center of the table shook his head, the glittering jewels and embroidery attesting to how much he and ..
Nadia had slept three nights in the house she’d inherited from her grandmother, and every night she had the same dream. Nightmare, really. She heard crying coming from the attic, and when she went to investigate, she found a three-foot-tall Japanese woman trapped in a wooden crate. Then the dream shifted,
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“Em! This wardrobe is perfect for your new apartment!” Gillian waved emphatically at a cedar monstrosity.
Scowling at her exuberant friend, Em pointed to deep scratches marring the doors. “Why would I want something that looks like it picked a fight with raccoons and lost?”
“We can sand those out. It’ll look vintage.”
“Oh no! Oh no! Nixie, what have I done?” Jope yanked his hands away from the control panel. Lights blinked along the dash, but he pressed fists to his eyes and leaned his weight against the harness. He couldn’t bear to look at the teleportation platform across the cabin. It was ominously, horribly silent.
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You arrive that first morning at Cibola High School with low expectations. This is the muggy, muddy, backwater of Florida. The only bright side: you can absolutely dominate the social scene.
So, you enter with a bright smile directed at everyone from that hot basketball captain to the wallflower girl and even the custodian
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