by
Do you believe in magic? It might exist all around us in everyday life, hidden in trees and sunflowers, slipping into view when needed, leaving gifts when all hope has abandoned us.
- Why does a young woman caring for her elderly grandfather find a secret sunflower patch in the snowy hills of Wisconsin?
- What happens when a demon woken from sleep happens upon a grieving cat dad?
- How will a sentient house end its long loneliness?
- Can the smallest water fairy find her missing sister?
- What does a bride even do with an enchanted wedding veil?
- Who will save a city cat from a haunted country bridge?
Sunflowers in the Snow and fifteen other stories explore the existence of magic and how it affects us. From sentient houses to psychic bartenders, this collection will carry you through stories of heartbreak and mending, families fighting and reconciling, and friends who will cross between worlds for each other.
The Unknown Language of Trees
The death trees are marching again. Three twenty-foot-tall pines rumble through the nursery on the second night of their nocturnal rampage. They haven't actually killed anyone yet, but if they rampage every night, it will only be a matter of time. It's not their fault my crazy Uncle Henry cast a spell on them. What did he think the pine trees would do once they could pull their roots out of the ground? With those prickly boughs and thick trunks, they were sure as hell not making a shade garden; they were Christmas-scented rage.
READ MOREI know just enough about magic to understand how serious this is. Sorcerer's Digest, a new magazine published right here in Pickney, Illinois, warns about the reckless practice of magic. But they don't tell me how to stop someone else's irresponsible hobby. Uncle Henry isn't around anymore; the pines became my problem when I inherited this nursery. 'Prickly Friends' has a deeper meaning now that I am babysitting newly awakened trees with an attitude problem.
It's past closing. The new gates are locked, so fortunately the pines can't leave, but since I didn't leave before sundown, I'm trapped here with them. The second story office window provides a frightening vantage. The pines strutted from Henry's personal collection at the back of the property. They had dragged soil through the gravel parking lot, dragging fallen leaves from their neighboring oaks and maples in a smear of red and gold. I admire their autumn carpet, but I worry it's a bloody omen.
They slow as they arrive at the newly installed chain- link fence. I would have sprung for steel, but the fence installer needed two months for materials and a crew to do that job. The chain link was ready. It better freaking hold.
"Miss Daisy?" A squeaky voice comes from behind me.
I whirl. "Shane, what are you still doing here?"
"Extra hours." His voice is still squeaky, not fitting his nearly six-foot frame. Working his first job to pay for a fancy racing bike, Shane was always the first to volunteer. Except, I had asked him to come in early, not stay late.
Labor was another cost on top of that fence. Even though Prickly Friends was the only nursery in this town, Henry was in the red. My U.S. history degree hasn't done squat for me, but with all those years bouncing between retail jobs, I know how shops work. I'd have to watch my budget carefully if I wanted to stay in business. If that was even possible after the pines' attack. If we survived tonight, we would work on Shane's listening skills. If he even wants to stay on.
I shift so he can't see out the window. No need to scare Shane. If Henry hadn't seen fit to tell anyone about his magic, that was his business, but now that people were hurt and property had been damaged, his secret had run its course. I need to tell Shane before he sees the trees.
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