Oh, I can already taste our sweet victory! Just imagine the rush, the bliss! That old nudnik Santa will give us elves what we desire. No, what we deserve. Finally, we’ll have—
“They’re coming!” Pint Ree slides down the snowbank. His elfin ears are red with adrenaline, small hands shaking.
I spent New Year’s Eve picking up my body parts from the sidewalk.
The streets were filled with people. It was dangerous to make my way through the crowd, but I wanted to get to the coffee house to ring in the New Year with some friends. When the old woman staggered towards me,
No one notices a lamp. Like, you wouldn’t look at the lamp in your living room and think, “Wow, I really need to watch what I say.”
Of course not. You’d say whatever the heck you wanted.
That’s why I’m currently on Senator Harold Altenstein’s coffee table, listening to him explain
“All right, Sire, the Kosimas will handle the ceremony. However, the treasury needs approval for banquet expenditures.”
Falton stared at fluttering drapes. Window’s closed though. Gelaid was literally driving him mad.
“Sire, the royal magistrate wants to discuss writs of authority, the speechwriter needs to meet. After that… Sire?
Falton fell face first on his bed.
I whistled as I stepped from my house. Per usual, I was clad in my nano-suit, a second skin to protect me from harm. You couldn’t see it—to most eyes I looked like any kid walking the street. Well, any kid in a trench coat with goggles perched on his forehead.
Read it now
Hey, Dragonbreath. Camping this weekend. U in?
A wisp of smoke accompanied my snort as I stuck my phone back in my pocket. Camping. The only social event I’d been invited to in years. Not that I could blame them after my laugh fried Craig’s gaming system at fourteen.
The jungle island loomed ahead, a silhouette against the rising sun. I hurtled across the tips of the waves in my best tuxedo. Six of the most accomplished and highly trained Navy SEALs to ever swim for Uncle Sam followed close behind.
We made for a cave hidden at the back of a narrow cove,
The stout at the Crown is frothy and just a bit sweet. Not sure how many I’ve drunk, but tonight isn’t the night for counting. If I was sure there’d be beer in heaven, I might be elsewhere.
Aliens. The outer-space sort. Came down from beyond months ago and decided last week they’d play
Why, oh why, did the baby and the aliens have to come on the same night?
Joey crouched on the bathroom counter, heart racing. Purple light from the crocodile-shaped spaceship outside bathed the house in an eerie glow. Glass shattered in the kitchen. A scaled figure ripped open the refrigerator and hissed at its contents.
Kyle yelled as a tendril of vine lifted him off his feet, whirled him through the air, and deposited him in a breathless heap on the ground.
Gritting his teeth, he sprang back up and raised his axe. The vines drew back, their long cords moving like fingers, preparing for another assault.
The oil rig’s platform shuddered and lurched into the air.
Matthew Finnburg the Third watched the earth fall away beneath them, then turned to his companion. “Xena, what is happening?”
Xena’s black eyes widened, then clenched shut as the platform picked up speed. Her slender arms quivered from her grip on the rail. “I couldn’t say, sir.”
Aedus hated it when his hourglass talked. The majority of its speech was apocalyptic prophecy, and he would have given anything for it to be wrong. Just once.
Preferably now.
Stones cut through the soles of Aedus’ shoes as he sprinted down the hill, dragging a stretcher behind him.
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