“Ohmigod, there’s a tarantula in your grapes!” My chair legs screeched back from the table, and I dropped the grape I had just plucked from the fruit bowl.
“That’s just Ernie. Don’t worry; he won’t bite.” Granny glanced over from her spot at the stove where she’d been churning a bubbling concoction for
Oh, schni—!
An explosion rattled the keep. Smoke slammed into the stone walls and bounced back in scrolling curls, blocking out the daylight peeking through the windows. Coughing, Athelbert heaved open the iron-studded door of the wizard’s study and stumbled into the corridor.
The smoke poured out after him, filling the air
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’
The grass was up to Abigail’s chin now. If she didn’t find Ryn soon, it would consume the entire kingdom.
Abigail pushed her way through the verdant blades consuming her village. Couldn’t the boy have chosen a different enchantment? Something to do with rocks, perhaps? She could deal with pesky boulders.
Markus bounced on his heels as he waited in the line leading into the Cursed Gardens. Past the black metal fence, maze-like rows of statues rose in a cacophony of heroism and doom.
“Hey.” Markus tapped the shoulder of the hulking man in front of him. “You see that wyvern over there?
Pounding footsteps shook the forest and knocked fiery, autumn leaves from the trees. Gemma pressed against the nearest trunk, the bark’s ridges digging into her bare arms. We found the stone golem.
“Fiske, Korth, you ambush him from the other side.” Uncle Roan spoke just loud enough for her to hear.
Maize ran her fingers along the fresh scars trailing her arm as she stared at the king’s latest request. The white suit lay draped across her red-wood weaving desk. Make this suit so that its wearer is immortal, the king’s messenger had told her. Then, perhaps, will you be forgiven.
Strands of afternoon
This was the last time I’d ever let Matt drive Baby, my gorgeous poppy-red ATV.
We hit bump after bump trucking up the mountain. I hung onto Matt for dear life as we rumbled over clumps of clay rocks, spewing pebbles. Finally, he swung Baby to a stop. Around us stretched Heartbreak Woods,
Birds sing joyous melodies in the courtyard outside my window. A fine day for a wedding! It’s a shame our beloved king’s betrothed wants him dead.
Feet scurry through the palace hallways, and nervous voices bounce off the walls as servants rush about making preparations. If only they knew the truth.
But I know.
The carriage arrived late in the afternoon, but Sebastian didn’t get out right away. He peered through the frosted glass at the house, its cobblestone siding glowing in the sunset. Candles flickered in the snow laden windows like watchful eyes.
Sebastian glanced at the paper on the bench beside him. The dreaded “yellow slip”
The cloaked figure stole into Deidra’s shop, flinching as the bell above her door signaled his arrival. Deidra looked up from the ancient, yellowed pages of her collection on Kumerian legends.
The cloak and hood were not unusual this time of year, considering the cold bite that followed him inside. Yet Deidra got
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My blood freezes. I know that tingling scent. The scent of magic. Magic long dead in these parts. But there… that flicker of tantalizing other. That otherness resonates within me.
I scan the crowded pub for possible sources. Sweat, the stink of unwashed bodies, mutton left too long over the flames
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