Over the centuries I’ve had brief spells where I’ve considered children adorable. But such misconceptions can be very dangerous. My only excuse, I’d caught a March madness.
“Those are the official rules. Any questions?” I snapped the NBA rulebook closed and stared down at the children. Fourteen wide eyes stared back at me.
In Vermont, we call the spring thaw Mud Season, a time of year that gives new meaning to the word battleground, for it’s necessary to battle the ground simply to walk. Either you struggle while the muck sucks at your shoes and even skirts if they aren’t hitched up a bit, or you tumble when it’s too slick, which causes the unwary much irritation.
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My consciousness slowly absorbed the sounds and images around me. I’d been summoned. I floated above the scene, an incorporeal presence. Until a creator conjured me into a physical form, I remained an observer of the world around me.
“Hurry, Jinny, we have to finish before we go to school!”
“I just opened the
I watch the sun rise through the mist, creating an early morning rainbow. The colors glow, and in my awe, I forget the mug I hold. The clatter shatters my reverie, and I blink at the shards on the concrete. I will sweep that up later. For now, I am lost in
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Peter had thought dying would be an awfully big adventure.
But not like this. Not when he wasn’t the one staring it in the eye.
He couldn’t let Jane face death without him, because he couldn’t face life without her.
He watched her chest rise and fall, her breathing labored and ragged.
Gently floating to the surface, Pepie’s gaze darted around the crowded shore. It was that time of year again. He smiled as he took in the boisterous throngs decked out in bright t-shirts sporting a cartoon version of his face. A large banner read “Happy Pepie Day!” beneath the picture of a long-necked creature…
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Bramble Dinkenspry was very good at fixing things. In fact, her entire family was good at it. But when you’re a brownie, you expect nothing less.
“Bram! It’s time!”
Bramble nearly dropped the stopwatch in her nimble fingers. She’d been listening to the gears as they whispered secrets of the device’s inner workings.
“Connor, are you awake?”
I crept to the edge of Auntie’s boat, grasping an unfinished bag of woven eel grass and kelp. Kiri’s face widened in a grin, revealing the gap from her missing tooth. A chilly breeze tugged her mass of dark curls as I joined her on the dock.
“Hold on—we’re crashing!” the bigfoot bellowed as he pulled back on the aircraft’s controls.
I tucked my wings against my body and gripped the armrests. Squatch was not our regular pilot, and it showed.
Again I wished that Gob and Flats hadn’t had to deal with the Werewolf Plague of 1346.
Excitement skitters across my limbs as I peer over the tops of all the other trees. I can see six-year-old Ruby Sue get off the school bus in front of her house and run straight into the woods. Toward me. Her friend.
Here in the easternmost part of the Berkshire Mountains…
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.
Mark ducked away from a barrage of hail moments before the gunshot clacked. The bullet skimmed his shoulder as a gust, gritty and wet, kicked him to the sidewalk. The tornado slashing through the Indiana countryside was closing in—debris and trees rotating in a torrid sky like dust in a vacuum.
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