Daydream Bridal Boutique Summer Sample Sale!
I prop the sign festooned with cursive alliteration on its stand and peer out the display window. Chattering women crowd the sidewalk like penguins on an ice floe.
“Opening in five, ladies!” Our manager Eugenia strolls through the showroom, shooing consultants in black pantsuits toward the front. “How’s the turnout, Mary?”
“Rope secure?”
“Check.”
“Snacks on hand?”
“Check.”
I passed a bag of freeze-dried oranges to the shadow shaped like my roommate and watched him fumble to open it in the dark.
“Ugh. Connor. This is the best you have?”
“We’re in space, Barrett. Not many options.”
He sighed and shifted on the lumpy mattress.
I can’t escape the song. It winds through the air in snatches, filling my head with memories. The melody cuts the half-healed wounds on my heart open again, but I deserve the pain.
I chase the elusive notes through the busy city streets, narrowly avoiding collisions with ladies carrying parasols, children wearing tiny sailor suits…
The night air smells like cinnamon and fryer oil from the cart vendors down below. Swing jazz floats on the breeze from the club three shops down. I tap my fingers moodily on the rusty edge of the fire escape. It’s Independence Day, but I don’t feel much like celebrating.
Tomorrow, my brother leaves for war.
Alaric and I had fled west, narrowly escaping the assassins from our world. After a month with no further attempts on our lives, I began to breathe easier and embraced Earth’s comforts—even settling into a routine. My brother, on the other hand, stayed vigilant. He didn’t believe that the assassins had given up.
Read it now
“Let’s not say anything about fireworks to Mossy.” Grandma arches a brow as she carries a platter overflowing with red, white, and blue striped donuts to the front door. “I would hate for anyone to lose a finger today—or a talon.”
An emerald blur shoots through the open window, warbling a made-up song…
Fireworks exploded over Elysium Fields Senior Living and Nate almost dropped the bag of empanadas as he blundered out of his car. He squelched his apprehension. He had to reach Abuela before she lost herself in memory.
On recent visits, Abuela had been lucid, and he’d told Alexis about their picnic traditions. Abuela would demolish them in Rummy.
I remember my first glimpse of her in early July. She peeked in the window of my bakery as I went about my opening routine. I may never forget the morning sun shining on her platinum hair, surrounding her with a luminous halo.
She next brightened the door of Bob’s House of the Rising Bun…
Havok author Arlan Gerig shares an in-depth review of his experience with Havok as a writer and four-time winner of the Super Reader award.
Read it now
So many humans seem to love their fairy tales more than their own world. They wish yourselves back to the days of knights and princesses, dragons and mermaids….
Well, this mermaid is happy to have progressed beyond that. I for one am delighted with the opportunities these modern times give. I’ve learned so much…
I was but a fresh-faced eighteen-year-old, the summer I worked grounds crew at Camp Sand Lake.
Sand was a given, being smack in the Mojave Desert, and it would’ve been omitted altogether in an alternate universe where “Camp Lake” made good branding. The eponymous lake, however, was a mystery. How deep was it?
“So, Aedan, I’d like you to take care of the place today. This will be an opportunity to get your feet wet managing the business.”
“What?” I glanced up from my phone, sipping my rapidly-melting milkshake. Uncle Johnny didn’t usually bother me on my lunch break.
He sighed. He looked frazzled, and his white hair stuck out at odd angles.
Recent Comments