Zach Allenbaum swore it was the perfect spring-break gig. Paid lodging in Manhattan and enough cash for tickets to a Yankees’ game. All we had to do was help clean up a few phoenix nests.
“Good things are coming, Brady.” Zach clapped me on the back as we signed the contract. “I swear it.”
“My, that’s a fine looking bear,” Grandpa told me one evening as I cuddled my new teddy. A visit with my grandfather while Mom was on a business trip always meant a swing through the nearest toy department, where I could take my pick, more or less. He loved to watch me play and often joined in.
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Let me tell you a love story. No, it’s not a fallin’ story—fallin’ in love’s the messy bit. This one’s about old love, the kind that’s lived a handful of years, that’s aged into something stronger and softer. That’s where the best stories are found.
Slim was a man of few words…
I flashed my badge at the officer standing guard and ducked under the yellow tape.
“I’m glad you’re here, Inspector Belden.” Officer Fuzzbee’s nose twitched as he hopped over and mopped his brow with a crinkled handkerchief. “I haven’t seen such a gruesome scene since the Heartsville V-day slaughter. Not a pretty sight, I can assure you.”
Let’s get one thing straight: I hate Pinocchio. It’s because of that dumb puppet we celebrate Pinocchio Day on April 1st, where everyone tries to see how many lies and pranks they can get away with. That’s fun—but then comes Honesty Day.
See, the Blue Fairy who brought Pinocchio to life felt slighted that he—and others—reveled in lying on April 1st.
I leapt off the HareMaster and started my ear-obic workout. I needed hop-timal conditioning to win my eleventh Eggy award at the annual Easter Eggs-traordinary Eggs-treme Eggs-travagant Expo—so named because the sign printer ran out of Gs.
Midway through my bunny lifts, Mayor Badger shoved herself into my hole. “Hope you’re having
I remember how the rain poured when we boarded our flight from Virginia two weeks ago. A typical, gloomy, East Coast April day. Penny and I both have seasonal depression, so when the opportunity arose to take a ten-years-overdue honeymoon to sunny Djerba Island for two weeks, we didn’t hesitate.
I wish we had.
Warmth does not come to the peaks as quickly as it does the valley. For though the mountains here remain frozen in winter’s grasp, the basin below my tomb has thawed, and in the valley, flowers bloom. From the summit I watch as thick snow melts and flows into rising streams that feed the invaders’ crops and cattle and greed.
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Over the centuries I’ve had brief spells where I’ve considered children adorable. But such misconceptions can be very dangerous. My only excuse, I’d caught a March madness.
“Those are the official rules. Any questions?” I snapped the NBA rulebook closed and stared down at the children. Fourteen wide eyes stared back at me.
Let me tell you the story of a dragon who wanted to be a man.
My name is Eleanor Thornhail, and I’m a worldhopper—long story—and I’d gotten myself stranded on a strange world of magic and dragons.
One dragon in particular was my ticket out. I’d found him hiding among the humans, working as a librarian for the Infinite Library.
To W. Darling: As you requested, below is my recollection of my team’s rescue of A. Liddell & discovery of the Red Queen’s plot to take over Wonderland.
I hope you find everything in order. -B.
The stone manor stretched into a gray March sky. Ivy trailed up the walls and framed the imperial letterwork: Institute for Madwomen.
Every spring, the past called Cheroth back to a land that did not want her, compelling her against reason or need. She swept low over the tree line and into full view of the village, beating her wings in the slow rhythm of one trying to suppress hope. A woman caught her shadow and looked up.
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