“Padre,” says the outlaw next to me at the bar. “I need yer help.”
Gold glints at the corners of his mouth. He reeks of trail dust, manure, sweat, and tobacco. The bartender bot drifts toward the till and a silent alarm. The conversations
Dee Dalsey was constantly surrounded by heroes. Big heroes. Little heroes. (One that could be either, depending on the need.) Heroes with super strength, super speed, or super senses. Not to mention the whole slew of heroes that could fly.
Yet none
Etta Mae grimaced at the curtain of cigar smoke at the entrance to the Golden Stars Space Casino. Her worn loafers crunched on the carpet.
My engine room floor is cleaner than these carpets. Where are the janitor droids? She clutched her slot machine tokens. Focus, girl. You have a mission.
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The Dark Lord Vangir snapped his newspaper into crisp submission.
All around him, the summery sounds of mountain life hummed. A pleasant breeze brushed through the weave of his reclining lawn chair, working with the goblet of chilled red lemonade in his calloused hand
Someone shrieked. Everyone’s heads, including mine, swung toward the east side of the village. A riderless broom raced westward, skimming almost close enough overhead to part my hair. Something red dripped from its straws.
Some folks in the market square yelped with panic. Others raced for cover. A few flung themselves over their wares.
“Evie! Wake up!” I shake my sister, careful not to touch her skin, and grimace at the new color engulfing her favorite fluffy blanket.
“Tiff?” Evie yawns. I back away. She opens her eyes, takes one look at me, and shrieks.
“Shhh!” I wave my hands, eyes wide.
“What happened to you?” she hisses,
“Mason, what do you think?” Aunt Peggy asks, beaming.
It’s terrible.
Of course, I don’t say that out loud. Aunt Peggy would be inconsolable if I do. So I swallow and hope my face doesn’t express my shock. “Aunt, you shouldn’t have.”
She giggles
“A pinch of mint, a sprinkle of red clover. Three drops of deep golden honey, and the sun-kissed petals of a yellow daisy. The peel of an orange, an azure feather of a bluebird, and…” I gave the cauldron contents a slow stir.
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When Becky falls off the tightrope after her daily dose of Balancing Brew, I know something’s wrong with my elixirs.
Fortunately, it’s just practice, and Becky lands safely in the net. But if that had been the actual show? I shudder.
“Charlotte!” Val, the
Twilight falls, and shadows hang heavily over me.
I snuggle deeper into my red cloak, tighten my grip on my basket of treats, and continue down the tangled path.
Darkness deepens with each step.
What I thought was a tree’s shadow moves
Having my brain poked and prodded while I’m awake is a surreal experience. Prick on one part, and I feel like thick goo is running down my left arm. Boink another, and I can hear my aunt Patel singing the 1995 Indian hit,
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It was 10:30 p.m. on December 18, and I was desperate.
Sleep had grown more and more elusive as I aged. In my teenage years, I often dropped into dreamland as soon as my head hit the pillow. These days, I tossed and turned while the
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