It's easy to return towards the portal, swishing and swirling in front of you. It is like the answer to the prayer you've been asking every night: take me away, take me away, take me away. It hardly even hurts ( Read more... )

It's this - the fake leather seats stickiness against your back, the endless, mindless chatter from girls who've been given their first taste of power and their first taste of loss simultaneously, the way Willow and Xander are curled up against each other next to you, your little sister who smiles for you (and only you; you know her well enough to ( Read more... )

Her name was Mirabelle - she was thirteen, living in France in the 1940's when she was called ( Read more... )