Previous: Milled Messages, Part One


“Time for what?” Hemlock asked.

Hazel stared at the paper as a cold veil of realization settled over her. “It’s time to meet.”


“My father,” she whispered.

“How do you know?”

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I’ve been slacking with the blog. Other than keeping up with Hazel and Holly (which is a challenge unto itself), my ideas for blog posts have been rather few and muddly. Or they require a certain amount of research, which I delude myself into thinking I have time for, only to fall into the pit of “I need to get Hazel and Holly done!” so that it doesn’t actually happen.

Hazel and Holly, apparently, are the bosses of me.

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Previous: Through the Keyhole, Part Two


Holly ran over to Hawthorn as he lay on the ground. She fell to her knees and scrabbled at his coat and gently patted his cheek.

“Hawthorn? Wake up. Please, wake up.” She looked up at Hemlock, who had also hurried over, and felt a pang of panic at Hemlock’s distressed expression.

“How do we wake him up?” she said.

Hemlock shook his head as his mouth hung open. “I… I don’t know.”

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Previous: Through the Keyhole, Part One


“She’s lost it,” Holly said as Hemlock gently led her across the main room. “Her mind’s finally snapped and she’s gone the wrong way ’round the bend.”

They reached the door and Hemlock opened it and led them outside.

“I mean, you agree with me, right?” Holly said. “We shouldn’t be staying here.”

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Previous: Chester’s Field Day


Just as Hawthorn let down his crystalline wall and retrieved his jacket, a carriage came rattling down the road behind them, headed their way. The carriage slowed as it approached and Tum scowled down at them from his perch next to the driver.

“You think you can just ditch old Tum? Placate him with some dolls and leave him in the cellar? Not nearly enough beer to ditch me in a place like that. So if you want to keep on my good side, you’d best think again the next time you’re of a mind to be playing your tricks.”

“We weren’t trying to trick you, Tum,” Holly said. “We meant to come back. We–“

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