The back of the cab was warm and smelled vaguely of cigarettes. Morgan held Shauna’s hand, tears falling quietly in the darkness on the drive home.
Only emptiness greeted him when he opened the apartment door. He shuffled inside, dimly aware of his wife slipping off her shoes and wandering to the bathroom.
You can’t eat morals. This motto had earned Abraham quite the reputation across town, meaning many shady characters ended up in his tent on darkened nights. When the work Abraham had done for his clients tormented his mind, he told himself one thing.
Scruples didn’t stave off starvation—money did.
And the fellow…
An ocean of color floods Damien’s eyes as he steps out of the portal. A blinding array of purple, yellow, blue, and white blooms. He frowns.
Irises? Not what he expected. But little about this search has gone according to plan.
Jerking up his binoculars, Damien surveys the land beyond the field of flowers.
You cannot judge my father by the law of the land. The crimes your witnesses claim he committed at sea either did not happen or were done out of necessity. I stand before your honor, high on the quarterdeck, and the assembled “victims” in this court, clinging to the mahogany taffrail…
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I eyed Tira as she stumbled across our living room. Dressed in a sparkly pink thigh-length dress, zebra print high heels, and bunny ears, I almost didn’t recognize my usually reserved roommate.
Tira yawned and tossed her purse toward the futon. It bounced off the cushion and dropped to the floor.
Bjørn thrust his numb hands deeper inside his pockets and hunched his shoulders against the bitter cold as he crept through the forest, searching for the creatures he hoped could save his future. To his right, he could just make out the river Meuse, still and silent under a glistening layer of ice.
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I pedaled furiously, squinting to make out the next turn by the beam of the flashlight tucked into my bike basket.
My mom would catch up with me soon, I was sure of it. Even if I hadn’t left the shoebox of old newspaper clippings and my scribbled notes from library trips strewn across my bedspread
Morning’s pale light radiates through the cracks in the storehouse where I sleep, and I lean into the comforting warmth. The air is silent and still. Heavy with expectation. My stomach pinches in hunger and I tuck my legs to my chin, whimpering. Wait for the pain to pass.
Pain. One.
Doctor Holloway! Can we please swim in your pool?” The boy looked about nine, and a couple of multicolored beach towels flapped over his shoulder as he came running toward Denise, who was about to pull a lawnmower’s cord. With him was a slightly younger girl, an inflatable swim ring encircling her waist
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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.
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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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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