Frank the Pig Detective shuffled papers on his desk while his brother Bob studied the bookcase.
Wonder what kind of mood Bob’s in today?
Frank adjusted a paper that didn’t really need adjusting, and sighed. Before the Big Bad Wolf fiasco, he, Bob,
“All I mean is, one of us has got to make pretend niceties or they won’t like us.” Friedrich crouched down beside Aloysia in the nursery of the kidnapped child.
Aloysia did not bother to contain her eye roll. She had insisted
“I’m gettin’ real sick of these death cults,” Jack growled, his flashlight reflecting eerily off hundreds of skulls lining the tunnel wall. “This is the third one this year! Why do sorcerers keep choosing catacombs and haunted
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“S.A. meets here tonight.” The crinkled, handwritten sign hung askew on the door. Lucy tapped the edge of the paper, and it instantly righted itself.
As Lucy tugged the handsewn mask over her face, a loose thread dangled in front of one eye. She slipped it under
“Why are you soaking wet?”
Scamper reeled back from his best friend, HearSay, to avoid the shower as the awkward, towering droid dripped water from the ragged trench coat draped on his thin frame. HearSay brandished three glimmering fish impaled on his makeshift spear for Scamper
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