Three Girls With Fangs

“Why aren’t we talking about what happened last night?” She glanced around the room. “To Robin.”

Chairs squeaked, and breaths were exhaled. But no one responded. They looked to the front of the room.

“Because we don’t know what happened,” Sarita said. “All we have right now are rumors and gossip. Is that going to help anyone?” She swept her dark gaze over the dozen girls in the room.

“He’s in a coma,” Jolene said. “After studying all night.”

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The Final Monster I Fight

The final monster I fight. It won’t be long now.

Curses and cures. Curses and cures.

I’ve tried everything. Like most people in my position.

Everything reasonable that is. I didn’t think I’d run out of options this soon. I only started seeing the signs a couple of weeks ago. Of course I’ve known it was coming, but I also hoped…I might be one of the exceptions.

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The Hamelin Hunter’s Pipe

It wasn’t the rats that caught my imagination when I first heard the tale as a child. It wasn’t all the lost children. It wasn’t the man in the pied coat that haunted me.

It was the pipe.

And when I met James so many, many years later and we happened upon a discussion of the old folk tale, starting with all of the historical basis for the legend and whatnot, we stopped for a moment, laughed, and then he said the words that echoed my own thoughts.

It wasn’t the rats that caught his imagination when he first heard the tale as a child. It wasn’t all the lost children. It wasn’t the man in the pied coat that haunted him.

It was the pipe.

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