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“I AM!”, she hissed, checking over her shoulder. The community garden was busy, but nobody else was talking to the peas.

Lou reached in, grabbed an arm and arranged it near the head. Humming their song, she connected; THIS time they’d stick.

She waited as the traffic light changed back to red. She might die here, clutching an old mala, lap full of rolling beads.

I creeped through the line of dense forest,
down,
past the wide open space.
Finally, home, in your sebaceous eye lashes!

In ecdysis I am vulnerable to predators, but not you and your boiling pot.
When you put me on my head I fall asleep.
Who am I?

Preparing to clear atmosphere, Aime sighed as her ship hovered before the unmapped twin moons. Eeny, meeny, miny, moe.

The damp soil was heavy above him and solid at his back, but the breathing straw shifted and now Jimmy could see...light!

The coffee is particularly bold and lively this morning. With every sip, it’s warm, wriggly proboscis snurfles my ear.

Down in the hold, the writing man’s light grew dim. The wooden stage creaked as he drifted. Time to cast for the oolichan.