Therrus eyed the snacks neatly aligned on the table and considered grabbing something before deciding that he was too nervous to find the food appealing. For now, he should just make his way to a corner. He turned and nearly collided with a young woman, almost sending the snacks on her plate tumbling.
Read it now
Today was the day that Therrus would see a ghost. Or maybe Bigfoot. He hadn’t decided which one to look for first. Since coming to Earth two months ago, he’d heard humans voice a variety of opinions about creatures that may or may not exist.
To better understand this fascinating aspect of human culture,
The woman at the front desk eyed Therrus, then pointed at his sunglasses. “It might be bright outside, but don’t expect much sunshine from old Bulver. He doesn’t like reporters, Mr. James.”
Therrus, reveling in the ring of his adopted Earth name, replied with a bow. “Fear not, madam. I am only here to help.”
“Get it right this time, Therrus.” Loriq’s green skin shimmers as he stabs a finger at the main console of the Civaran starship. “Three relocations in two months?”
“Word of honor.” I raise one six-fingered hand in an Earthling salute. “No more interacting with primitive humans.”
It is a little-known fact that the universe runs not on love, money, or the speed-of-light, but on appointments. Missed ones, mostly. Civilizations have collapsed because a royal overslept, galaxies have failed to form because a bureaucrat’s lunch ran long, and a million-year war was fought because someone misplaced a tea invitation.
Read it now
“Do you mean to tell me that Henry Wotton of all people invited an American peasant to one of his parties?” Dorian Gray wrinkled his flawless nose.
Gazing with admiration at the dark-haired woman in navy-blue silk chatting with Lord Henry, Basil Hallward shook his head. “Caroline Brooks is scarcely a peasant, Dorian.
Dr. Miranda sucked in a breath of crisp autumn air and eyed the park across the street from her office. She’d had a long morning, and the sight of elm trees, limbs clothed in golden leaves, eased the tension in her shoulders.
I’ll take a walk, clear my mind, and—
“Doctor Miranda!”
Doctor Miranda’s shoulders instantly tensed again. Tilli.
It was midnight when I reached my flat. I’d left Henry Wotton’s party early, fatigued by tedious debate over whether a heavier-than-air flying machine was possible, sparked by recent reports from the United States. As I stepped through the door, an intruder flung me against the wall, pinning me there with a powerful forearm.
Read it now
“Too far.”
Bang. Bang. Bang.
I sped up to the portrait gallery.
“Nope.” Victor muttered to himself as he raised the hammer.
Bang. Bang—
I snatched the tool from his grasp.
He spun, his expression shifting from annoyance to welcome. “Jean-Luc!”
I glowered back. “Why, pray tell, are you banging holes in my walls?”
“I’m hanging a portrait!”
Harmony, we don’t have room for…” Shading my eyes against the sunset, I counted the bison supping on my black-eyed Susans. “Seventeen buffalo to roam. Our home is not a home on the range.”
“But Mom, they need somewhere to live.” Her blue eyes pleaded with me. “And they’re itsy-bitsy bison.” She hummed the
Dear Mom and Dad,
Thanks for looking after things for me while I’m gone! I know you were a little skeptical of my crazy business plan at first, but sales have been booming lately. People seem really open to the idea of a café with more live animals than just cats! I can’t believe
“Lost, Goldilocks?”
I stand, brushing dirt from the knees of my green corduroys as I beam at the fox standing nearby. “Nice guess, friend! My name’s Harmony. Harmony Star. And I’m not lost. I only stopped to help a three-legged turtle safely cross the path on my way to…to…”
Where am I going again?
Recent Comments