Once upon a time, flowers lived long lives. They are now known to be fleeting, for the most part. They bud. They bloom. They grace the world with their beauty. And then they die. But it was not always so. They lived long lives indeed. Longer than creatures with many legs. Longer than creatures with four legs. Longer than creatures with two legs. And sometimes, even longer than the long-lived beings of the deep.
When pigs fly
“Obviously, it’s a hoax,” Rita said, switching out the microphone cover for that furry one that she used when they went somewhere windy. “But can you imagine if it were real? I mean what would it mean?”
Quentin sighed. “It would mean that Nature herself is against my ever getting a real shot at doing real journalism.”
“So, pigs can fly and somehow that’s all about you, huh?”
I didn’t panic right away when Violeta said she had succeeded in building a working time machine.
All of her inventions worked. All of them. But all her other inventions were a lot less…ambitious.
I didn’t earn what happened to me. The curse that fell on me was meant for another. That’s what happens when petty warlocks are reckless with their magic.
“You’re looking for a story.”
“That’s right. What’s your story? Where did you come from? How did you get inside that whale?”