From midnight to dawn the morning of Valentine’s Day, Angeline’s Flowers opens its doors for a special overnight shift, admitting anyone who casts no shadow, casts two shadows, or whose shadow doesn’t match their footsteps.
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“This here’s Belladona.” The guide led over a large red griffin, and I eyed the creature. Why couldn’t my parents just leave me back at the cabin, happily immersed in a book?
Belladona tipped her head and snapped her beak. Her tail swished
Dead leaves crunched under Charlie’s weathered boots as he shuffled through the woods. His fourteen-inch hobgoblin frame, yellowish and twiggy, blended in with the October colors of the forest around him. Half his face was shrouded by a patched scarf.
A few more minutes and he’d have the goods.
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The sound of a Harmony Patrol was distinctive. You could hear them blocks before they arrived in sight, the crisp stamp-tramp of their shiny white boots synchronized to the point of being robotic.
Lise shuddered. Underneath those spotless helmets were the bones,
A stranger in a wool overcoat retreats from the panicked crowd and stops next to me. I was surveying the starry horizon when he drew near. He seems calm.
I stick out my hand. “It seems we’re in the same situation. My name is Daniel Bradford.”
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