The shoebox rattles. A crystalline scratching sound tinkles inside the worn cardboard. I clutch it in my aching, bandaged fingers as I stand trembling in the yard of the old livery stable at the edge of the village.
It’s my last option.
If he can’t help me, no one can.
One step at a time
She waits for him in the parking lot.
It’s a Saturday—her day off—and Paxton is on time. The elderly man parks his ‘78 F-150 pickup and enters the library, returning a few minutes later with two tomes.
When he drives away, Greta’s car follows, but not too close. She’s wearing dark sunglasses
Jessmina had faced tough crowds before, but a squadron of war-torn soldiers? That just felt unfair. She loitered at the bar, though—unfortunately—drinking on the job wasn’t allowed.
She sighed glumly at her situation. Outside, gray gloom and swirling snow. Inside, a table full of scowling warriors with rifles strapped across their backs.
There are things they don’t tell you about having green skin. Like that you’ll always be parched. Or that when you have too much water, you’ll get a sugar high. Or that when you don’t get enough sunlight, you’ll wilt. Literally.
But I chose to become a Chlor—this way, my life will
Wars are ugly affairs, even when you’re a Leprechaun. Normally, I don’t involve me’self in the business of men, but when their gunslingin’ began to ravage me Irish homeland, I had no choice.
I planned to cause a wee bit more mischief to encourage these savages to flee me country. So, after makin’
When the sandstorm dissipated, it left behind only a scattered coating of golden grains on the threadbare furniture.
And a man.
Olive skinned and dressed in a smartly-tailored suit, he carried a worn leather briefcase. His shoes, which, given the circumstances, Susan had expected to turn up at the toes, were instead brightly
“You’ve been gone so long, milady. We thought you might never come back.” Agnes smooths out my blankets, rumpled from my restless sleep. “How was your stay in the country?” She sounds nonchalant, but shoots me a covert glance.
Does she know?
Beeswax sweetens the air, and I lurch from my chair
Thoughts flooded Adalai’s roving mind, most of which were not her own.
He said he’d be here…
…not a telepath. At least the one in the forest stays away…
No one will hear…
Adalai, sitting cross-legged on the forest floor, focused on the last voice
“It’ll be worth it. You’ll see.”
My brother, the perpetual optimist. “You’re not the one puking over the side. Thanks to me, even the dragon probably wants this flight to be over.”
Tad’s chuckle was soft, but I could still hear it over the constant rush of air and the beat of the massive wings.
“There’s another one, boss.”
I peered at my monitor screen. Sure enough, the telltale shooting star effect had almost gotten past me. We angels are not incapable of error, unfortunately. Gripping the controls with renewed enthusiasm, I cornered and contained the time bubble. When I heard the satisfying click of the “Save” button, I sighed. “Almost missed that one.”
Here lies Hazel. If nothing else, she was considerate.”
Hazel ignored her taunting subconscious and reread the note to her landlord.
Dear Mr. Baxter,
Send authorities to apartment 412. They will find my body inside. Do not come yourself. It is too late. I tried to prevent any mess. Please accept the extra rent enclosed and my apologies.
Hazel
Recent Comments