I sit up gasping, drenched in sweat. For the third time this week, I’ve awoken from nightmares of our city on fire. People screaming, houses exploding.
Each nightmare ends the same way–with blackened bodies staring at me from their smoldering graves.
I leave our bed to stare out the window with my oil lamp…
I’m late.
My sandals slap against the cobblestones as I hasten to my post. Scents of olives, fish, and fresh bread assault my nostrils. My stomach rumbles.
I stop at Clelia’s stand, a simple board set atop old barrels. She has the best takeaway food of anyone in the city.
A light scratching within the cavernous walls sent new goosebumps racing down Aniya’s arms. She couldn’t see anything in the shadows, only heard unsettling noises, followed by a slow, barely audible dripping of water. She strained her eyes as if squinting would provide clarity, but when the cave remained resolutely dark,
Read it now
Nadia had slept three nights in the house she’d inherited from her grandmother, and every night she had the same dream. Nightmare, really. She heard crying coming from the attic, and when she went to investigate, she found a three-foot-tall Japanese woman trapped in a wooden crate. Then the dream shifted,
Read it now
Dr. Byron Stoneburner inserted the bronze snake into a satchel as German bullets whizzed overhead. He secured the latch on the bag and mumbled a prayer.
Courage. Or Jack’s dead.
A disheveled officer nudged his arm. “You’re serious?”
Byron tightened his helmet chinstrap and placed a muddy boot on the trench ladder.
The arrow ripped open my pant leg, slicing into my thigh. Leave it to the Mythic Mafia to get all theatrical with their weapon choices.
“Are you hurt, sir?” the girl beside me asked.
“Shut up and run,” I ordered.
We raced around a corner. Well, she raced, and I limped.
After they stole my boots, they tied a necklace of dynamite around my throat.
Georgie, an unkempt prospector who stank like a skunk in a manure pile, knelt into the stream and lifted my pan, surveying its sandy contents as dawn glimmered orange in the fuming mist of Yellowstone hot springs.
“Phraxy, when are you going to marry me like you promised?”
Determined not to let Bilhah’s childish pout sway him, chief architect Aphraxad kissed her forehead and caressed her ebony hair. “Oh, my feisty desert bloom, I beg for your patience.” He gestured out the window of the earthen hut serving as his office.
Aryelle peered into the unearthly gloom of the Black Forest. She didn’t want to be here, but she also didn’t know of any other way that she, a mere girl of fifteen, could save her father from the dark dungeons of Lord Galdomé’s castle.
“Bring me a bag of gold from the dragon’s hoard
Peter chose a table in the back of the tavern, giving himself a wide view of the entrances. He ordered a drink and instinctively scanned the room. He noted a frail old man watching him across the way. He avoided eye contact, but the man continued to watch him. Was he being followed?
Read it now
The gulls were the worst part. Daedalus had expected that, though not the reason why.
Often enough had he and his son, Icarus, seen those feathered thieves shrieking and snatching fish, fruit, or whatever else they could gobble along the Cretan shoreline. They’d had plenty of opportunity for such observations. Crete’s ruler
“So why Tarshish?”
The man’s shoulders tensed, but he continued counting out the coins for my fare. Finally, he shrugged. “I hear it’s nice this time of year.”
“Right.” I fought the urge to roll my eyes. Tarshish, nice? Either the man was greatly misinformed—no one went to Tarshish on holiday—or…
Recent Comments