The car picked up speed, and the sound seemed to lull me.I could relax, I thought as I felt the tingling of circulation in my limbs. I was in Trent’s car, wrapped in a blanket, and held in his arms. He wouldn’t let anything hurt me. He wasn’t singing, though,I mused.Shouldn’t he be singing?

But why allow someone to make a bad choice when a little information might engender a better one? It's hard to wake up and see the sun if the blinds are pulled.

I gestured my frustration. “I don’t know. She’s much better already. She wasn’t talking half an hour ago. Look at her now.” We all turned, finding Ceri sobbing quietly and drinking her tea in small reverent sips as the pixy girls hovered over her. Three were plating her long, fair hair and another was singing to her. Okay,” I said as we turned back. “Bad example.

He grinned. “That’s because pixies are ever-after. We’re magic, baby. Just ask Matalina.

It’s a cat. Boy, you couldn’t slip anything past me tonight.

I want one thing I can point to and say, 'that is good, and it's a part of me.'

I just want my name back so my life can go back to chaotic and weird instead of chaotic and desperate.