Ziff pushed open the squeaky doors to The Crooner’s Saloon and took a cautious step inside. A goblin hunched over the keys on an old piano, pounding out a medley filled with far too many flat notes. Two she-elves stood on stage, both dolled up in an overabundance of petticoats and ruffles,
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If life were a streaming service, Max would’ve hit “Skip Intro” a long time ago.
Every day played out the same: wake up, scroll, eat cereal that claimed to “optimize your morning,” and try not to think about the flashing ad
Frank the Pig Detective shuffled papers on his desk while his brother Bob studied the bookcase.
Wonder what kind of mood Bob’s in today?
Frank adjusted a paper that didn’t really need adjusting, and sighed. Before the Big Bad Wolf fiasco, he, Bob,
“S.A. meets here tonight.” The crinkled, handwritten sign hung askew on the door. Lucy tapped the edge of the paper, and it instantly righted itself.
As Lucy tugged the handsewn mask over her face, a loose thread dangled in front of one eye. She slipped it under
The first thing I saw when the wool sack was yanked off my head, once my eyes adjusted to the light, was the beautiful woman sitting next to me. She blinked in confusion, squinted at me, then grimaced. There went the one bright spot in my
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Roger struggled inside the sack, his head aching from the after-effects of the day’s overindulgence at the Tavern. When he’d agreed to a game of chance with an ogre, this was not what he’d envisioned.
The bag allowed in minimal light, and when he pressed
Maisie swings her feet on the faded green bench as she waits for the school bus to arrive. She tries to focus on the birds singing, instead of on her heart thumping in her chest.
“You’ll rule middle school,” she tells herself as a yawn escapes her. Maisie wipes sweaty palms on her skirt
Janitor. Maid. Hygienic maintenance specialist. All these job descriptions were technically accurate. But none of them alluded to the truly unique skillset required to be a member of the staff cleaning crew at C.A.P.E Quarters—that is, the headquarters of the Crimefighting Association of Powered Entities.
She was Dee Dalsey … The Cleaning Lady.
Lazy, swinging jazz filtered in my window from the music school on the floor below my office. I swirled my glass, listening to how the clinking ice joined the quick staccato melody from the saxes and the rain outside. Every once in a while, a rumble of thunder or bright flash of lightning added some excitement to my personal concert.
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I staggered into the kitchen, pulling on the white-grey shirt of my superhero suit and accidentally jamming my toe against a chair. “Ouch!”
Behold, the mighty hero Shields, sans coffee.
With the shirt on properly—never mind, it’s on backward—I jabbed a button on the coffee maker. Gurgle, gurgle.
“528 Cactus, this is Quik-Warp fueling station, what is your routing number?” a monotone voice buzzed over the coms.
Tabytha cruised toward the little station, steering with her knees as she pinned back the sides of her awkward not-quite-pixie hair before flipping
My lasso sped toward the last bull in the devil’s herd. Its cursed hooves struck sparks as it thundered across the sky.
While my ghost rope started to drop over the brute’s head, I let myself hope that this time I’d catch him, though I’d always failed before. Would’ve held my breath, if I had any.
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