“Ahchoo!” Alice’s blonde hair bounced as her head jerked forward.
“Goodness, Alice.” Her sister, Lorina, raised her eyebrows. “God bless you, but remember to cover your mouth when you sneeze. Even when a lady has a cold, she never draws attention to herself.”
“Excuse me,” Alice said stuffily. Yawning, she settled back
It was another good morning in Miriel’s garden. Her dog, Matteo, lounged in all of his bulk at her feet. She liked big animals, whether they be dragons or dogs. Since there were no dragons in the town, she settled for a big dog. She sipped her tea and admired her flowers. Her garden
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“You’re lucky to be alive, Ms. Takkenridge. If your Saint Bernard hadn’t howled so loud that half the block called 911, you wouldn’t be.” Dr. Olivera took the stethoscope out of his ears.
I smiled, proud of my dog that did do something in the nighttime. Good boy, Matteo.
“You’ve been at Saint Luke’s
The moon hung low over Bramblewood, casting silvery light across dew-laced branches. It was quiet. Too quiet.
A hush had settled like a held breath, as if the forest itself was listening. Even the usual nighttime chorus of crickets had fallen silent, replaced by a stillness that pressed against Miriel’s senses. Something was coming.
Cinnamon-scented steam still wafts from my basket of freshly baked muffins. A light breeze ruffles the brunette bangs peeking out of my crimson bandanna. I hope the checkered towel tucked into the wicker will keep the goodies warm for the short walk through the woods to Granny M’s.
A gray figure emerges from the
“Save the world… again?” Miriel stroked the white hair between her faithful St. Bernard’s ears. The hulking brute glanced up at her, rolling his eyes, mouth agape.
Oh, you think you’re too old for this, do you, Matteo? she mindspoke to him.
The cantankerous canine nodded his agreement and lay his chin over his
“Awwww, puppy!”
It was a totally weird thing to hear inside the mall. I turned just as a blur of golden fur burst out of the food court. It sped past me, its coat changing colors as it reflected the neon lights of the storefronts. It looked like the Yorkie mutt from the movie Benji.
Good things come in threes, except for when they’re witches. In Miriel Takkenridge’s case, the three people who approached her booth were two witches and one warlock. They stepped across the plain of the pie-judging contest, not with wands ready for battle but with forks prepared for sampling.
Miriel swept back a white lock
Ethel Grieves did not do dresses, yet here she was, in a dress. A ballgown, no less. It was midnight blue which paired beautifully with her elbow-length black gloves. She refused to wear pointed high heels like the other ladies, instead sticking with her regular black boots. The left one, a special gift
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I was five the first time we went camping with the rest of my scout troop. I had lots of friends back then, the kind who didn’t really care about my past or how weird I was. Whenever we went on hikes, we would pretend to be trees together. I remember looking for frogs
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“It’s your move.” Ethel adjusted her marble seat closer to the oak table. This daily gameplay in King Horchester’s park kept his guards from being suspicious of her and me.
Ethel was a strange companion, a complete enigma. Under her cloak, she garbed herself in a tight blouse, vest, and black breeches that little
The inn had the pulsing, frenetic ambience of an auction house. Wall clocks and mantel clocks began crying like babies as they one by one struck 11:24.
Phezz groaned. Another excruciating morning. “I can’t hear myself think!”
“You could always leave,” the late Lord Pompington said. “Leave my inn!” His wispy form didn’t match
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