hil hoover

it started with a howl.  not from the creature, mind you,  but from the tiny black-and-white dog  whose usual mode was  yip-yip-yip not  awooooooooooo.  a bolting, shuffling,  staring moment later,  there was nothing to be  seen, just furry paws  patting the ground in  an anxious dance  and a wet chin pressing into my  hands.  i didn’t make the connection this time, but to be fair, the pup was often a bit  soggy. the second time,  i happened to be  closer,  scrambled in time  to see that ...

The problem with magical artifacts these days is that they’ve learned to go incognito.  Gone the days of:  ancient scripts in unknown languages,  stones that glow like lanterns,  ominously breathing statues,  beautiful glittering fairies trapped in bottles. This trap was inevitable,  is what I’m saying. Plastic dice.  Glossy cards with corners  barely crinkled from use. Bright colors splashed  across a cardboard surface,  tiny squares and  cheap figurines.  Let’s take a trip! the box offered...

“That’s not how I would have spiced that.”  words unbidden in the back of your mind just a little distraction as you shake  just a smidge more  salt into a bubbling pot,  cut up just one more  clove of garlic than you planned,  the knife feeling strangely  heavy in your hand  as if some other fingers  were curled around your own guiding. it starts small:  cinnamon in a savory dish  you’d never have thought of,  less pepper and more paprika,  the onions caramelized perfectly,  a thing you’d...