Since my mother died, I was the last of the line. I thought about marriage and kids, but then I thought, what if I, like everyone before me, fell prey to that same degenerative illness? I couldn’t put a wife, or possible children, through all I had been through wne caring for my mother.
“Well,” said E.B., “I’ve been having a problem here in Australia. I’m seen as a feral pest, and some parents have objected to me being here even just for Easter, so I’d like to sub-contract this district to you, so you could be the Easter Bilby.
Andy wanted butterfly cakes for her 16th birthday. I wanted her to have exactly what she wanted. Her life was about to change in so many dramatic ways, and I wanted to help her hold on to the innocence just a little longer.
Sadly for Toad, the sequel I’m working on right now, will have even more of the uncomfortable stuff, and very little of the fancy stuff she loves.
The little “well” was beautiful, carefully constructed from brightly-painted balsa wood, with ribbons and bows and flowers over it, in a manner only someone as artistic as Martha could have made look so elegant and beautiful. On the side was written, “To Ariana and Jack. May all your wishes come true.”
People might have called Orsinius Wishlet a keptomaniac, if they had known about him. But nobody did so nobody could call him anything. Orsinius was a wisp, living on the cusp of reality and unreality, not etirely here, but certainly not completely there.
Isabelle glanced out her kitchen window and dropped the plate she was drying. Either she was hallucinating, or there was a dragon in her back yard.Dragons didn’t exist, so rationally, she must have been hallucinating. Despite that obvious fact, she carefully stepped around the shards of shattered plate, and ran out to the back yard.