You think you know all the weird creatures in the world—tiny dragons, cats with pine needles for fur—and then you try to enter your dorm room.
“Don’t go in there, Drew.” My roommate, Matt, blocks the door with his tall, lanky body.
“Um… why?”
“There’s a
In her pink dress, with her golden hair, the girl looks like a rose—if the flower was human.
I stepped behind a pillar edging the palace portico as she approached. Dashed inconvenient, but I don’t want to shock her when I turn green and slimy.
She paused on the other side of the pillar.
Scarlet slammed her textbook down in front of the Head T.A. of Color-Based Synesthetics. “Teach me color transfer.”
The tired-looking elf didn’t look up from his book. “Hello to you, too, Scarlet. And no. You can’t learn color transfer for two more years.”
“It’s important, Aeris!”
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When Becky falls off the tightrope after her daily dose of Balancing Brew, I know something’s wrong with my elixirs.
Fortunately, it’s just practice, and Becky lands safely in the net. But if that had been the actual show? I shudder.
“Charlotte!” Val, the
Naria sighed heavily and gathered her auburn hair into a ponytail. How had she been accepted into the most prestigious artistry battle-mage academy in the realm?
“Focus, recruits,” General Peters demanded as he stalked between rows of easels. His voice echoed
The cry sends a chill through me, as it does every time I hear it. It always arrives at the height of summer, yet I pray this is the cycle it will not come.
But it does. It always does.
I take out the muting silk and put it in my ears and those of my beautiful daughters.
Salamanders are slow. This was something I hadn’t considered before beginning my search for the witch responsible for transforming me into the creature. See, while I’d been stuck as a salamander for the past six months, I hadn’t strayed from the fountain outside my father’s castle. Until recently, my brother
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Dr. Miranda sucked in a breath of crisp autumn air and eyed the park across the street from her office. She’d had a long morning, and the sight of elm trees, limbs clothed in golden leaves, eased the tension in her shoulders.
I’ll take a walk, clear my mind, and—
“Doctor Miranda!”
Doctor Miranda’s shoulders instantly tensed again. Tilli.
The museum director faced the crowd. “Everyone, raise a glass for this evening’s brilliant artist. To Helen!”
“Helen!” Voices thundered in unison as afficionados lifted their wine goblets, then sipped the crimson nectar.
Helen drank in the praise, her gaze focused on the lone glass that remained lifted. The vessel lowered, revealing the frank blue eyes of its beholder.
“Uh, Harmony?”
Harmony dropped her ukulele with a clatter and glanced at the owl perched nearby. “Yes, Aldo?”
“You have an”—he tilted his head, blinking slowly—“an interesting visitor.”
Harmony leapt up. “Ooh, splendid! I adore the interesting ones.” She skipped to the oval door and flung it open. “Well, hello th—what
“Late! You’re late!” Dr. Rawlings bellowed at the brass section. Those magnificently large ears missed nothing. “I went to school for many years to become this brilliant—play faster!” He rubbed a hand through his poof of white hair and called out, “Rehearsal letter M!” while flipping pages in his score.
Most music professors
“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
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