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
Being chased sucks.
Why did I believe my parents when they said we’d be safe in the woods?
“Zombies don’t go way out there,” Dad assured me.
“And it’ll be nice to get away from the madness,” Mom added.
Yeah, well, now they’re zombified just like
Detective Conan adjusted his fedora and surveyed the broken glass scattered throughout the flowerbed. At some point last night, an intruder had broken into the Westfield home through this window… supposedly. Nothing had been taken, and the couple living there hadn’t seen anyone.
Conan breathed in through his nose, sorting the area’s scrambled scents.
“All this trouble just so you can cuddle some alien vultures.” My sister landed our gyro-flyer near one of my video recorders, which was showing a lone adorb. Usually they were in herds of a dozen or so. “A year with
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The wind whipped against the door to Luna’s enclosure. She sighed and snuggled deeper into her cozy bed of straw.
“Good morning, Luna.” A gangly keeper in khaki pants and a green Zoo polo peered at her through the bars. “It’s a beautiful
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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