“Could you maybe… not do that?” I pleaded with the fairy as she zipped around the elephant pen.
I’m just an intern at Safari-Land Sanctuary and Tours, and arguing with pixies isn’t on my list of daily tasks—especially not when an important client is scheduled for a tour. I was finishing the
Twenty-four hours to weave garments fit for a queen. Arachne’s hands shook as a guard shoved her into the small weaving room and slammed the door shut behind her. She looked up at the massive heap of purple chaff just ahead, covering the shadowed floor in front of her.
This is what I get.
The colossal purple dragon’s scraping snores pierced Eileen’s ears. She froze at the entrance of the cave, her every muscle screaming for her to run.
She took a deep breath, increasing her grip on her deerskin satchel. I can’t stop now; Lottie is depending on me.
Slowly, Eileen entered the dark, humid cave,
My true love, Prince Corduroy, was a bear. I mean that in the nicest, kindest, and most loving sense. Thanks to the Committee’s vindictive curse, he transforms into a grizzly bear during daylight.
But I had kissed him!
“Shouldn’t that undo the curse?” I asked my best friend and fairy godmother, Amelia.
Alvina Hutcherton lifted her nose to the sky, spread her fragile, black wings, and reveled in the crisp, night air. She hadn’t been able to fly in years. Old age was a downer, even for a bat. But every night, Nurse Shelly would put on her black sunhat, perch Alvina on top of it,
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Royal walked through the granite street of Beryl City thinking of how he would kill his father. Elegant buildings towered on each side of the wide road, testaments of just how full of life this city was compared to the middle-of-nowhere hole he grew up in. Every few houses, his father’s flag flew,
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There are two rooms we don’t talk about.
One’s the scullery. No need to talk about it—we live there.
The other’s Miss Mary’s room.
Master Falwell keeps the door locked. Wears the key ’round his neck. Never speaks about the daughter he loved and lost, the wispy girl on the brink of womanhood
Nova curled her legs up and tucked her toes underneath her nightgown. Damp tears rolled down her face as she sat on her bed in the dark. The curtains were drawn, and the mirror was covered up, as always, but even that couldn’t blot out the reminder of her differentness, especially after today’s
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The wishing tree stood right where Ella had said it would. Ryn stumbled through the graveyard, stopping before a small white headstone. Behind it, a tall, slender tree stood, its dark green leaves veined in gold. Doves cooed in its branches, nestled close to one another as they slept.
It won’t grant every wish,
Strike a blow against a tyrant and impress a girl at the same time? The opportunity was too good to miss.
Ashdar landed softly in the garden, wrenching his staff free of the vines he’d grown to climb the wall. He checked the runic instructions carved along the length of his staff.
Come on, try one.” Sal popped a blue strawberry into his mouth.
Jane examined one. “They’re blue. Strawberries are supposed to be red.”
“I know, but my second… no, third cousin Fragar likes to experiment.” Sal took the upcoming exit. “Be adventurous.”
Jane dropped the fruit back into the basket. “I’m not eating
“Come now. You cannot be serious.”
“Oh, but I am. Your colleagues speak most highly of your collection, professor. I’m certain that a few quotes and some pictures would do wonders for my book.”
The old man eyed his visitor. She was pretty and young, with a hint of some exotic heritage
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