Beneath his jacket were wings that grew out through rips in his shirt. When they were released, the wings began to unfurl from his shoulder blades. They were twisted and uneven, they were covered in cracked and crooked feathers.
Kathleen Van Cleve
“Harry, my best friend, is a chocolate rhubarb plant.”
Polly Peabody’s family lives on what can only be called a magical farm. Their house is a castle. Nobody can Continue reading “Drizzle”