It was 7:00 p.m. on a muggy summer Sunday—a time when any sane man would’ve been at home with a cold one, but there’d been word that the gangster known as Jitters was bringing in a shipment that night—and I was at the station, trying to find somebody who knew something.
Read it now
What I wouldn’t give for a chocolate cupcake. Unfortunately, Dad’s grocery shopping never included desserts. My snack would likely consist of veggies and hummus. I dropped my backpack and scrunched my nose. It’d been so itchy lately.
At least I’d get cake tomorrow for my sixteenth birthday.
I hopped onto the bus with music still bouncing through the wires in the back of my head. The hydraulic hiss of the door cut off the cries of the doctors running to catch me. I waved at them as the bus pulled out and joined the flood of neon San Diego traffic under the rose gold sky.
The visual should have been concerning, but, hopped up as I was, the pearl white road and amber horizon seemed more or less normal. People ogled me with dark faces rimmed in blues and reds.
King Falton stared at his empty banqueting hall. This would be his third midwinter feast since taking the throne. The first had been subdued in honor of his beloved father’s death. The second had been a debacle. Falton’s parents had him late in life, therefore, at the time of his father’s passing,
Read it now
Melvin pulled two ties from his closet and held them up in front of the mirror. He’d been single for so long, it was hard to believe he’d connected with Sophie as well as he had.
“Lexi, search restaurants near me.”
The beauty of a Wednesday night date was that last minute reservations were possible.
By Justin Mynheir “This is quite a pickle. Isn’t it, dear?” Dave leaned against the inside of the rusted cage. Down the cliffside, across an amphitheater of ancient stone ruins claimed by jungle growth, suspended over a bubbling pool of lava, Karen fidgeted in her rope bindings. “You think?!” “I think plenty, but even my
Read it now
A table of contents for the Mythington Minute photo comic featuring Phenny the phoenix.
Read it now
We’ll have dinner soon, Buddy,” Babe insisted.
I couldn’t see what she was dicing on the counter. I sniffed. Beef maybe?
The phone rang. “Wait a minute. I’ve got to answer this.”
I groaned. I tugged at her arm, trying to remind her about our dinner, but she shooed me away. Babe liked to talk.
The mud hut was thatched with grass that stuck out like my hair in the morning. Its only difference from the other huts was the paper nailed to the door. I had to squint to read the orange gel pen writing: Archibald Waverly.
I knocked.
An old man with tufts of white hair
Since the last werewolf outbreak twenty years ago, sightings of the unpleasant beasts have become blessedly rare. So, it was a surprise to find one lounging in our new neighbor’s yard.
Two other canids lounged around, too: a mutt the size and color of a dirty mop, and a sleepy bloodhound.
I was nearly done raking the lawn when someone plump, perky, and purple-clad appeared in a gust right there, scattering leaves.
“Who are you?” I wielded the rake.
She shook a leaf from her skirts. “Your fairy godmother, dear.”
“Fairy godmother—? But I didn’t know fairies were real.”
“That explains your rude surprise.
I think I’ve found him.
Once the awful dream fades enough for me to breathe freely, I search the skies and spot the blue star in minutes. Every night since I left home has disappointed me, but tonight…
Tonight, I think I’ve actually found him.
Surrounded by scattered trees, I wriggle out of my scratchy wrap
Recent Comments