You okay? Eli’s voice tickled Iris’s mind.
She rubbed the itchy spot behind her ear where the purple telepachip had been inserted. Just nervous. About the dive, about this new telepathic technology…
He chuckled. Aren’t you a pilot?
She glanced out the plane window at the clear lilac-blue sky. Somewhere, thousands of feet
There are two rooms we don’t talk about.
One’s the scullery. No need to talk about it—we live there.
The other’s Miss Mary’s room.
Master Falwell keeps the door locked. Wears the key ’round his neck. Never speaks about the daughter he loved and lost, the wispy girl on the brink of womanhood
I’ve always considered brevity to be blue. A concise plan, a neat introduction, and a minimalist finish—all speak of a calmness I adore.
Brevity is my greatest ally and my greatest foe. I speak in short sentences. I punctuate my speech with thoughts about the environment—the clues reside in the latter,
Ramona had lived in the Fairdale Lodge for most of her fourteen years. She prided herself on meeting all the guests as they checked in.
So, when she stepped into the lobby, she was delighted to see Bobby, the hotel manager, with his mothy pork pie hat askew, handing room keys to two men
This town is weird. Everywhere I go feels… familiar. The coffee house on Alexander Street. The library on Main. Even the dingy auto shop on the outskirts of town seems like I’ve lived here my whole life.
Only, that isn’t possible. Is it?
You see, I’m not sure where I came from.
As soon as I saw the tweet, I knew he’d be coming after Bridgett. And I’d be damned if I was going to let that happen.
“Can’t wait to meet my favorite author, @BridgettKuzminsky, tonight at Chi-Town FanCon! #DragonAngels5 is the best one yet. I’ve read it three times. I have a special something
I took the form from the gnarled hand. Behind the receptionist’s thick glasses piercing jade eyes examined me. “Fill this out and your request will be considered.”
Only two other applicants sat in cracked vinyl chairs. The mint paint was chipped and stained. A layer of dust covered most surfaces. I took a seat
The rain pours down over my shoulders. I crouch next to the tree we used to climb, sobbing.
“It’s the circle of life, Maya.” I startle as Mama comes up behind me. “You have to let him go.”
I rest my palm against the wet grass. “Why?”
“The way of life,” Mama repeats.
“I can’t believe you’re making me do this,” Willow grumbled, blowing a strand of brown hair out of her face. She trudged through the shallow, mucky water. Only Henry would think it was a good idea to spend their weekend stomping around a mosquito-infested swamp searching for something that didn’t exist.
Read it now
Your murderer wears a green coat.
High collar, turned up. His unwavering eyes lock with yours from across the bar as he discreetly pays the door fee and enters like a kryptonite bullet nobody notices but you. His shadowy fedora is olive-tinted, matching every lime-tinsel and kelly-painted shade in this sweaty watering hole.
Read it now
Had I recognized the emerald droplets for what they were, perhaps I wouldn’t have followed them.
You’d woken me, earlier than usual. Restless, kicking, and hungry for both of us. I’d grazed on a bowl of muesli as I sipped my mint tea, watching the dust bunnies dance in the bright January
Read it now
She’s not coming, says the Wolf. It prowls outside my cottage door, snuffling.
I cower into my blankets. How big is it today? Large enough to blow down the door and swallow me whole in an instant?
I can’t let it in.
It’s Friday, the Wolf continues. She never comes on Fridays.
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