In the dense forests outside one of the last Earth cities that survived the great atomic war, the underground revolution continues. Centuries after the war, the once-vibrant landscape is now filled with towering ruins and abandoned machinery. The grim reminders of humanity’s past mistakes are being reclaimed by lush greenery that slowly fades into its fall colors.
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“Here’s the tracks the thief left, Frank.” Fairyland Hardware’s proprietor Marvin pointed to a muddy patch of ground behind the store.
I ambled over to look. Word about my crime-solving prowess had gotten around. These days, Frank’s Detective Agency was the first stop for most Fairyland folk when they had a mystery to unravel, and that worked for me.
I was about to flip the sign on the front door of my office from “Closed” to “Open” when I spotted a bulky black form on the sidewalk. My heart jumped.
Then I recognized my visitor and smiled.
“Papa Bear! You caught me by surprise.” I swung the door open. “Come in.”
Ever since the big bad wolf blew down my house of sticks, I’ve lived in my brother Bob’s brick bungalow. I operate my detective business, solving Fairyland’s strange and varied crimes, out of an office in the back wing.
Like many such operations, Frank’s Detective Agency has had its ups and downs.
I flashed my badge at the officer standing guard and ducked under the yellow tape.
“I’m glad you’re here, Inspector Belden.” Officer Fuzzbee’s nose twitched as he hopped over and mopped his brow with a crinkled handkerchief. “I haven’t seen such a gruesome scene since the Heartsville V-day slaughter. Not a pretty sight, I can assure you.”
I leapt off the HareMaster and started my ear-obic workout. I needed hop-timal conditioning to win my eleventh Eggy award at the annual Easter Eggs-traordinary Eggs-treme Eggs-travagant Expo—so named because the sign printer ran out of Gs.
Midway through my bunny lifts, Mayor Badger shoved herself into my hole. “Hope you’re having
I perched in the trees with my flock, waiting for the land walkers to leave. The tourists had nicknamed our home Murder Island ever since we chose to inhabit it. My name is Maximillian, but my crow brothers called me Boss.
Twilight painted the sky orange and pink as the last two…
Every year it’s the same. On the twentieth day of January, I’m hustled into a room full of my captors—some of which are my size but with no basic manners—and forced to perform. Sure, I’m given some capelin as payment during these exercises, but the treat is poor compensation for the humiliation…
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In the chill of the pre-dawn air, the kingdom slept. Sisters huddled close and dreaming, unaware of the coming beast. In the darkness they were sheltered, unworried, ignorant. Until at last, dawn broke. And with it, the tranquility of night gave way to the cacophony of day. Lorikeets squawked and flies buzzed and
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Puddles along the street mirrored the blue neon glow of the Chiang Mai business district. Tiny zips of lights flashed across the roadway, adding their spark to the reflective glow. Flickering lights continued to fill the street, until finally the mighty lightning bug army descended, rippling the puddles, at the rendezvous point chosen months
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Safe inside the brick house, the three little pigs exchanged high-twos as the sweaty, exhausted wolf slunk away in defeat.
Big brother Wally chuckled. “I knew all that huffing and puffing was just a bluff.”
Younger sister Trish hugged Wally. “You saved our pigskins.”
Youngest sister Carrie joined in the hug. “Wally, we were
Merit flicked his tail in frustration. His best servant—Pharaoh something or other—was dead. He knew this because when he’d arrived for his morning scratch, the human had just lain there, eyes open but unseeing. The body had also been cold. Not good for curling up next to.
Still, to be sure…
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