My heart is pounding in my throat as my feet rise, sink, and slide across the sandy beach. He is gaining on me. I cannot look behind me. I cannot afford a mistake. Should I chance the water? It’d be hours before I could reach the next shore across the grand lake. And it’s getting dark. I scream but no one is around to hear me. Or perhaps they are hiding. Better Edith Wallows than us. I can’t blame them. Had someone else been ensnared by the Carver, I would count my blessings that it wasn’t me. But here I am. Desperate and running. Several times I attempt to run towards the town, but each attempt seems to prelude his advances. He is so close. I will not escape this. I make another diagonal run and the sand proves too much for my feeble physique. My feet sink and slip. This time I fall forward. It’s all I can do to turn my body and raise my arms to shield myself. The butcher knife comes down. The doorbell wakes me in a sweat.
The Deafening Sound of Memories
It’s an odd thing how the same sound in two scenarios can illicit very different feelings. Children’s laughter, whispers. For me in this moment, it is the sound of a woman singing. A voice I know well. A beautiful, husky alto buzzing with energy. A voice that brought an audience. The same that lulled our children to sleep. A voice I should not be hearing and yet it roused me from my sleep. Strange though it be, but this voice, that of my lovely Sophie, is not the strangest circumstance upon my consciousness.
Calling All Wayward Souls Home
The cabin in the woods had been abandoned for years, but one night, a candle burned in the window. The flame was no roaring beast. Rather, it was a diminutive flicker that threatened to go out under any provocations. It should have been impossible for Janet Crabgrass to see in the unexpected snow storm she found herself in, but Janet did not bother with possibilities. Ah. Civilization! Janet thought to herself as she trudged her way through the ankle-deep snow.
The Reverberations of Water
There weren’t always dragons in the valley. It wasn’t that they were rare. In fact, they had their own territory but that was in the Great Overlook Mountains. Their sudden arrival in the valley was equal parts confusing and terrifying.
The First Birthday
Since the beginning of their culture’s history, the Thanaron people had been blessed with a unique gift. They were made aware the specific day each member of their society would die. Rather than live their life in constant dread, they embraced this knowledge.
What am I even doing? The question had crossed my mind many times in the past two hours. I’m too old to believe in fairy tales, aren’t I? the fairy tale in question is more of a local legend than anything else. Adults would often talk of the Wish Taker that lived in Lake Hourglass, named aptly from its shape. The Wish Taker dwells well below the narrowest region of the lake. They could grant any wish but would only do so under very specific conditions.
She Always Wanted to Get Married in a Barn
Her name was Annabelle Claire Wishmoore. A determined girl with wavy ash blond hair and fierce hazel eyes that differed slightly every time you looked. I had the honor of meeting her at the innocent age of seven. We had just moved into our new countryside home. The neighbors came to welcome us into the community with pies and fruit baskets. One couple had brought their daughter.
The Gift of Creation
This is it. I squeeze Valen’s hand. We are finally going to have a child. He squeezes back and gives me a beaming smile. The opaque glass double doors before us slide open with a perky brunette behind ready to greet us. She is dressed in a white lab coat with a broad yellow stripe at the bottom, white slacks, and impossibly white sneakers.