“Isn’t your hair just so adorable in the mornings, my little rumple-head?” The room brightened as her Mom opened the shades. “Mnhuh?” “Your hair, Jess, your hair. Specifically the bedhead. It’s simply adorable. Always has been. Ever since you were a little baby. The way it sticks up in the back there. So sweet.” Mom...
Niamh loved a bargain. Haggling with merchants along the dusty village square was her favorite weekly past time. Father feigned disapproval. Mother ducked her head in mock shame, muttering worthless apologies. In truth, they loved the coins Niamh saved them, the extra butter and eggs she acquired. It wasn’t easy being the plain, simpler older...
Most days the line at the downtown soup kitchen stretched around the block an hour before it even opened. Today–an unexpectedly windy, chilly day of the kind that usually drove those in need inside for more than mere sustenance–the line was a good three-quarters of what it should be. Angela would know. She’d been in...
It all started way back when I was nothin’ but a toddler, maybe two or so. Mama has pictures of me holding whole bouquets of four-leaf clovers. Didn’t even know what they was way back then. Just liked ‘em, you know? Same way a lil one picks a whole buncha dandelions for their Mama. Anyhow,...
Asleen strolled the rows of floor-to-ceiling hydroponic containers, stroking the softness of the new leaves, drinking in the humid aroma of life. Her wristband vibrated, a startling reminder of her next commitment. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” she muttered unhappily, casting one last look of longing at the expanse of green. “Have. A. Good. Time. Dr....
My parents started to look at me askance on my fifth birthday. Most of us have found our affinity by then: the element or creature or life focus that will define who we are our place in society. It was always obvious. Always. No one, not since The Witch’s Curse, accidentally unleashed one hundred and...
The door closed with a not-slam, but the whoosh-snick might as well have been a thunderclap for all the emotion residing in it. Mara stood on one side, her parents on the other. Their voices were hushed, but not hushed enough. Not that it mattered. She knew what they were saying; the fight was on...
You know that saying, when you have a big decision to make, that an axe is hanging over you? I used to say it all the time. But you know what? That feeling is nothing like having a literal axe hanging over you. Trust me. Let me back up a little bit––or a lotta bit––while I can. See, about five...