Moira’s breath fogged the viewing window, her wide eyes staring unblinking, as though in the split second they closed, Isla would disappear once again.
She’d been searching for her sister for months, ever since the night she failed to return to their pod. A missing selkie typically
With my American sense of direction and independence, I’d thought I could make it from my boarding house to the dreaming spires and spinning cogs of Oxford University without help. But I’d been wandering the crooked, twisting streets for hours now. A distant clock tower, hidden behind thick swathes of fog, struck noon with a melodic mix of bells and whistles.
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Martha scanned the pews as she entered the sanctuary, one hand slipping almost unconsciously into her bag. Her fingers brushed the spines of two books, one as thick as her fist and one as thin as a pencil. The thick one was, of course, her Bible.
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“It’s dangerous to stay here.” Lili gazed at me with red-brown eyes. “We should go.”
Leave the comfort of Steve and Talia’s house? I had to calm Lili’s fears before she ruined the good thing we had going.
“We’re house flies,” I protested. “If we weren’t meant to live in houses, why call us that?
Ping, pang, ping, pung, pang…
He cringed as his eardrums buzzed from the musical assault. “Man, I don’t think anyone could have made a worse music box. This thing must be broken.” Bobby leaned forward and put the wind-up music box between
Scarlet slammed her textbook down in front of the Head T.A. of Color-Based Synesthetics. “Teach me color transfer.”
The tired-looking elf didn’t look up from his book. “Hello to you, too, Scarlet. And no. You can’t learn color transfer for two more years.”
“It’s important, Aeris!”
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Dee Dalsey was constantly surrounded by heroes. Big heroes. Little heroes. (One that could be either, depending on the need.) Heroes with super strength, super speed, or super senses. Not to mention the whole slew of heroes that could fly.
Yet none
Everyone knows how the stories go.
The princess imprisoned by a dragon. Then the knight comes and fights the dragon with his mighty lance and rescues the lady.
It’s a good story to tell around the hearth on a winter’s night.
There’s only one trouble with it, and I see that now:
A man and woman bought a plot of land and built a cottage and greenhouse. The rest of their earth they cultivated to full, flamboyant, leafy life, pendent with edible gems. Some tomatoes ballooned to be nearly as large as watermelons. Others reminded one
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The crone’s home lies deep within the forest, so covered in moss and vines that I almost miss it. The old woman sits on a stool by her front door, hunched over a massive tome, running her fingers across lines of text.
I adjust
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Book club invitation. Take one if you dare.
Lucy withdrew a folded slip of red paper from the acrylic display. How mysterious.
Hearing shuffling from behind the check-out desk, she cleared her throat. “Excuse me, I’d like to renew my library—”
Kaloa headed for the water, surfboard in hand. The crashing waves roared the truth he refused to hear: he kept trying to prove he was the same rider from fifteen years ago.
He duck-dived through the break and surfaced in a prime spot. One, two, three paddles—he was up.
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