They were right all along.
Rhine grinned as she wrote down the words in what she called her “production notebook.” From the corner of her eye, she saw a white blur dash past her as she sat at the picnic table in her back yard
Read More Attack of the Vacuum Machine ArmyHad they listened to their father, the children would have been safe in their beds on that blustery night. But as it was, they were shivering before a pitiful fire no bigger than a candle flame and just as delicate, while a pack of goblins stood by the cave mouth arguing over what to do with their prize of three healthy children.
Read More The True Tale of Jack SpratZia had a singular passion, and she believed, a destiny, to play guitar. She began playing when she was twelve years old. She’d asked for a guitar for her birthday, hoping for an electric. Her father bought her a steel-stringed acoustic instead. Seven years later, she bought herself a blue electric guitar and named it Duke. Zia was a talented guitarist, but her talent didn’t hold a candle to that of her friend Edie, whose instrument of choice was the fiddle. Thick as thieves, peas in a pod, cosmic sisters were they, even after one of them sold her soul to the Devil.
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