Whisky looked over the shoulder of her Speakeasy moneyman and accountant, Smokin’ Fingers; Business had not been booming lately and she had a sense that he’d been dipping into the till at the same time he’d been cooking the books for her. Like the Scottish mage, he had become a liability, even if he was a lot younger and quite a bit more handsome. Continue reading
Henry peered between the slats of the alleyway fence, leaf green eyes nearly popping out of their sockets in horror at what appeared to be carnage of the most brutal kind. Continue reading
We were deep into the first cavern when a rockslide shook the sandy ground beneath our feet, sealing off the entrance, any external light source, and all hopes of exiting the way we’d entered. Continue reading
This gentle giant
Ended by corrupt police
Remember George Floyd.
Hope strained, smoke-stained streets
Shattered hearts, Minnesota
Patience, as we heal.
(This, on top of COVID. And those who gather together–prayers broken by opportunistic anarchists–risk a steeper next wave in the coming weeks.)
© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2020)
The four children huddled in the corner of the rabbit hutch. Cock-sure that the trolls would be sleeping off their hangover, they’d broken into the cellar for a bit of potato…maybe some ham! They’d not counted on LilleMjol catching them.
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