Do you have a favorite fall memory linked to a train? What do you imagine you would see if you were riding a train in the fall? Join the authors of Wild CHild publishing and Freyas Bower as we Take an Autumn Train Ride through our blogs.
- Four $50 gift certificates (two for Wild Child and two Freya’s Bower)
- An awesome swag package that includes:
- Wild Child T-shirt and mug
- Wild Child and Freya’s Bower bags
- Four handmade, crochet coasters by Kit Wylde
- An autographed copy of Rosemary and Rue by Seanan McGuire
- A rare DVD copy of the Matheson/Furst classic “Up The Creek” (lovingly used)
- One ebook copy of Nita Wick’s short story, The Dream (previously published as part of a Freya’s Bower anthology.)
- Book trading cards
- Signed Dangerous Waters poster
- of “Battle for Blood: The Blood Feud”
- winner’s name as a character in Kissa Starling’s next sweet romance story.
- A Yankee Candle
The Little Engine That Could
The Little Engine That Could swung from the roof of the carriage house up and on to the roof of the East Wing.
“I thought I could,” she murmured to herself.
In the midnight stillness, she rolled inch by inch until she looked directly down on Lady Beverington’s balcony.
“I think I can,” she steam hiss whispered.
Very carefully, she hung by her cowcatcher, and dropped to the balcony with a muffled clank. She froze, waiting to see if the muffled clank had disturbed Lady Beverington’s sleep. Minutes passed. Silence. The Little Engine That Could tenderly pushed wide the half open door to the bedroom and entered. Scarcely breathing, she made her way to the wall safe, quietly steamed it open and stole the jewels. She retraced her wheel ruts to the balcony, where she nimbly swung herself once more to the roof. A short roll later, she dropped first to the carriage roof, then to the ground. Stealthily she made for the tracks beyond the southern border of the estate.
“Piece of cake,” she said, gaining the tracks and fleeing east to a rendezvous with her fence, the pasture fence at Miller’s farm.
And now for something completely different:
Nimble Missst, shapeshifting Cloud Castle City Princess, rages against her betrothal to the ridiculous Blossom Prince, Zootch. Reluctantly bound to duty, she agrees to go through with the marriage, but always in her snapjaw mind she devises plans of escape. On the day the vows are to be exchanged, her startling violet eyes flash in disbelief when she learns that Zootch has fled Blossom in terror, saying he’s always been afraid of Nimble Missst. Newly enraged, she sets off in hot pursuit of the Prince. It becomes a game of hide and seek, pitting the snapjaw mind of Nimble Missst against the surprising cleverness of Zootch.
Pofftikkle! thought Nimble Missst. Ridiculous. I suppose they’ll all be gathered around Gramma’s throne. They’ll gape at me when I fly through the skylight opening. I should seep in the back way and creep up the stairs. They’ll be expecting me through the skylight. Why should I do what they expect? Aren’t I doing enough as it is? Queen of the Boad, All Fidd and Leee Combined. Ridiculous. And wed to Zootch, Prince of Blossom! Utterly ridiculous! Fabulously! Pofftikkle! Why is Kinng Forr retiring? I’ll tell ye why, Nim. One word. Zilp. She’s the one who’s sick of it. Sick of being Queeeeeeeeeeeeeeen. Ridiculous. Queen with fifteen ‘e’s. Seven or eight weren’t enough for her. No, her Blossom snobbery demanded fifteen. And I must wed her nephew Zootch! What a name! Ridiculous! It sounds like slipping on ice. And what a timid lackwit he is. He’s not completely ugly, but I don’t believe I’ve ever heard him speak a word. Well, hard to blame him, stuck as he always is in the company of his arrogant haughty clutch of a mother, the Quing. Always spouting about rudeness, she is. She INVENTED rudeness! The Quang’s not so bad when you get him away from the Quing, but he folds up timid just like his son when she appears. They say she never allows Zootch to be pried from her side. Hmmmmm. Well, I have a snapjaw mind. When he’s wed to me, he’ll be pried from her side and from mine, too! I have my little plan. Ho, what there, my favorite tricklestream!
The sparkling green cloud of Nimble Missst sank low to a mountainside meadow divided by a tumbling tricklestream. She settled on the stream and rode it down the grassy hillside to where it joined a slow-moving brook. In wisps she fluttered back to the top of the meadow and rode the stream again. Dozens of times she did so such. Finally, seemingly exhausted, she jelled to red vest, red pantaloon, silver cape Nimble Missst and sat resting in the long cool grass.
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