Matchstick and Mischief

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Digital drawing. At center, a mouse riding a motorcycle down a glowing pathway, facing forward, left paw on the pedal and right paw holding a lit matchstick. Objects float in the space around the mouse. At top left, a screw. Bottom left a sock. Top right corner, part of some device with buttons. Below that, a toothbrush. Middle right, a yo-yo.

“I’m Matchstick the Mouse.  And, hey, I’m actually a mouse.  Surprised?  I bet you’re wondering how I got my name.  You’re not?  Wait!  Where are you going?”

“Match, who are you talking to?”

“My fans.”

“Why are your fans walking away from you?”

Matchstick raised a furry brow. “Good question.”

“Is that the style you want for your chapters of our memoirs?”  Mischief reached for her satchel to pull out a pencil.

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The Defiant Little Giant

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The Defiant Little GiantThe bear bore down on a wide-eyed little girl who swept a cloak of feathers over her shoulder and seemed to vanish.  She didn’t really vanish.  The little girl, whose named was Turtle, had transformed into a little blue bird that darted out from under the massive girth of the lunging beast.  She swooped around and flapped and rose up into the air.  On one side, the bird saw the silver harper playing her enchanted harp, trying to sooth the savage bear.  On the other side was the giant, wider than three strong men, taller than a cornstalk.  He wasn’t always so.  He wasn’t always a giant.  He was once a scrawny young man.  The harper was once a traveling songstress.  The bird-girl was once just a girl.  All three were as they were now because of some magic beans.   Continue reading