Curfew
She put her hand on Miss Dorman’s desk. It felt cool and smooth. Her skin left sweat marks where it touched. The ruler whistled down. Whap! Whap!
She put her hand on Miss Dorman’s desk. It felt cool and smooth. Her skin left sweat marks where it touched. The ruler whistled down. Whap! Whap!
Pirate Oliver stood at the helm of the Rapscallion, wind ruffling through his fine brown hair and fake beard. Standing on a barrel beside him, squat, pink, and wearing an eyepatch, was his talking pig Fortingras.
Rain sheeted down, wetting the window panes. On the street outside, cars splashed through puddles. It was a melancholy day. A day for sitting fireside with tea and books and company. But she had no fireplace or chimney, no logs to burn. Her house was too dark and quiet to be cheery.
My name is Galaxy Fiona Adonis and I was born with the superpower of laughter.
The young dragon Aeeilrv charged out of his parents’ cave, tripped over a mammoth skull, and plunged nose-first over the edge of the cliff. “Eeaagh!” he screeched. Fire burst from his nostrils, hit the upward moving air, and spewed straight back into his eyeballs. He twisted and tumbled, not remembering to open his wings until seconds before he slammed into the ground.
“What’s the commotion?” Agnes Whittaker called out. First the party line went off. Then Tim, the neighbor boy, shot out of his front door, his face the color of baking soda. He hopped on his bike and pedaled furiously down the sidewalk. At the sound of her voice, he skidded to a halt a few feet shy of the porch.