The shoebox rattles. A crystalline scratching sound tinkles inside the worn cardboard. I clutch it in my aching, bandaged fingers as I stand trembling in the yard of the old livery stable at the edge of the village.
It’s my last option.
If he can’t help me, no one can.
One step at a time
My boyfriend’s eyes light up as he catches sight of the 1981 Thunderbird I just inherited from my grandfather. I figured Michael would be impressed with Blue Bob, given his freakish obsession with repairing old cars. However, I’m afraid even Michael can’t handle Bob’s special quirks.
Michael’s chiseled face stretches into a Zac Efron
Waves sloshed below the old man as he sat at the pier’s edge, waiting. A face emerged from the sea, her hair as white as the foam on the wave crests.
“It is good to see you, Mr. Crispin. You have the boot?”
Puzzled as he always was during these exchanges, Crispin held it out.
She waits for him in the parking lot.
It’s a Saturday—her day off—and Paxton is on time. The elderly man parks his ‘78 F-150 pickup and enters the library, returning a few minutes later with two tomes.
When he drives away, Greta’s car follows, but not too close. She’s wearing dark sunglasses
How long have I slept? No matter the amount, it’s never enough.
I rise from my damp bench, searching the edge of the bridge ahead of me.
Why are the nights always so cold when they come here?
Sure enough, there stands a thin, forlorn girl in a windbreaker—useless in this frigid air.
“9-1-1, state your emergency.”
“Hi, I think I’ve lost my charge,” Bethany said, shoving aside the clothes in the coat closet.
“Your charge, ma’am?”
“Yes. I was hired as an in-home caregiver to Ms. Rose Carterwood.” Bethany closed the closet door and darted back down the green carpeted hallway. “I went to the bathroom
Ever since his first death day—the day he’d seen his parents slaughtered—Vel had possessed a fascination with mortality. As a result of what he’d witnessed, he had two options: either go absolutely bonkers from the atrocities he’d seen that day or view each death as a celebration. Infuse some humor to the occasion,
Read it now
“Mirror, Mirror, in my hand—”
I cringe as the incantation rings throughout my prison.
“Who’s the fairest in the land?”
Against my will, I’m dragged through mists and shadows to the Glass. On the other side stands my captor, Queen Claudia of Grenvue.
I clench my incorporeal fists, and my stomach roils
The scarecrow’s eyes glowed at twilight. Two slits blazed orange as the October sun dipped below a horizon of corn, ten feet tall.
Jester was strapped to a wooden cross. Dressed in a tattered flannel shirt and faded jeans. Straw for tendons and muscles. No heart or organs, much less a brain.
“You can’t change anything, Tom. You know that.”
I nodded. No one could fight the laws of time travel.
“No matter how much you’re tempted.”
“I know!” I forced my breath to steady. Jacob was helping me, against all rules. All reason. He was not the enemy. “Sorry.” I swallowed. “No matter what,
If you’ve never had the misfortune of being tasked with finding a needle in a haystack, allow me to summarize the experience for you in four words: I’d rather eat dirt.
Regrettably, I don’t have that option.
Case 43b has been my strangest yet. The file includes a black-and-white photograph of a
Aislinn never thought she’d see Travis inside her greenhouse again.
Clutching her amethyst necklace, she addressed the prison guard accompanying Travis. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“The prisoner asked to see you before the trial, Dr. Groves,” the guard said.
Sweat beaded against the back of Aislinn’s neck, an unfortunate side
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