Donner. Where’s Donner?
Nicholas shielded his face from the blizzard’s gale, lifted his kerosene lamp, and counted the antlered heads of his reindeer. Dasher. Dancer.
A January gust smacked his red coat. Snow stung rosy cheeks.
Prancer… Vixen. The old man’s teeth gritted. Comet… Cupid… Blitzen…
Donner?
Yukon peaks loomed in silent observance…
Still in coyote form, Huey’s paws landed on the grass of Tema’s garden. He turned back into a man and collapsed to the ground, panting heavily. The giant’s cries of “Stop, thief!” had echoed all the way up the Stairway to Heaven, but Huey was safe now.
Safe with his treasure.
“Ow! Huey moaned.
Shots glanced off a yellow-leafed tree as Tee darted through bushes taller than him. He screeched as another bullet almost grazed his large ear. Taurus’s tail, he thought ERT-82’s greens would provide camouflage, but the chlorophyl-deprived foliage left him exposed. “This is Ambassador Tee, calling dispatch. Come in, Caelum Base!”
Only static.
“Jimena has to have run through here,” Gabriel grumbled to himself, pulling his sarape tighter. Waving his lantern, he stomped his way through the evergreen forest of Sierra de San Pedro Mártir. The light cast shadows blacker than night.
He huffed and shoved the branches out of his way, the pine smell suffocating him.
Time Square is a sensory overload waiting to happen—the heart of the city that never sleeps. Between the flashing boards, blaring traffic, and constantly moving people, it’s nearly impossible to find something in the mess.
Nearly being the keyword.
I leaned against the side of a building, slowly chewing a classic
Henry stared wide-eyed at the top of his tent. Was Gerald’s snoring growing louder? Sighing, he crawled from his sleeping bag and unzipped the flap. Memories of campfire smoke and burnt hotdogs clung to the crisp night air. His stomach growled.
“Might as well have a midnight snack,” Henry muttered. “No use…
A dozen people tread through the corn. Insects fall and writhe against their careful hands as they part the stalks. They curse under their breath for not sowing the seeds in tidy, even rows. Instead, the plants grew nestled close together, their rows zigzagging, mazelike across the miles of flat land.
She is missing.
I really don’t like me.
That sounds harsh. What I mean is I don’t like past-Trudy who sacrificed herself and got me into this mess.
Could I see this other me doing the things Mr. Blue explained? Entering a bubble to save people I didn’t know? Or love? Yep. It tracks.
But that still
“It’s too quiet.” Uchu leaned forward. The stone palace’s open balcony emphasized the unnatural stillness within the Kwaco. “The animals aren’t speaking, Ayara.” She caressed the feathered head of the red macaw perched on her shoulder. “Where is everyone?”
The bird nuzzled her, burying her beak in Uchu’s long braid.
Though the presence
Leave the dead to their derby, and they’ll leave the living to theirs. The ghosts don’t hurt anyone; they come, celebrate, and leave at midnight once a year. Horse races mean a lot to folks around here.
That’s what the old hillbilly had said as he pumped Reynolds’ gas. But leaving ghosts alone…
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