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The tramp was big and squarely built, and he walked with the rolling stride of the long road, his steps too big for the little street of the little town. Shivering in his thin coat, he passed aimlessly through the crowd while rosy-faced Christmas shoppers quickened their steps and moved aside to give him room.
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Dorothy lived in the midst of the great Kansas prairies, with Uncle Henry, who was a farmer, and Aunt Em, who was the farmer's wife. Their house was small, for the timber to build it had to be carried by wagon many miles.
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Here in Coven Tree we're no stranger to magic. I'm not talking about the rabbit-from-a-hat or coin-up-the-sleeve variety, either. I mean real magic.
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I didn't know how long I had been in the king's prison. The days were all the same, except that as each one passed, I was dirtier than before.
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Phulan and I step gingerly through the prickly gray camel thorn, each of us balancing a red clay pot half filled with water on our heads. It was all the water we could get from the toba, the basin that is our main water supply.
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"I'm tired of Remembering," Hannah said to her mother as she climbed into the car. She was flushed with April sun and her mouth felt sticky from jelly beans and Easter candy.
"You know it's Passover," her mother said, sighing, in a voice deliberately low.
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From the pleasantly situated old town of Mayenfeld a footpath leads up through shady green meadows to the foot of the mountains, which, as they gaze down on the valley, present a solemn and majestic aspect. Any one who follows it will soon catch the pungent fragrance of grassy pasture lands, for the footpath goes up straight and steep to the Alps.
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"Harvest is ended and summer is gone," quoted Anne Shirley, gazing across the shorn fields dreamily.
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Once on a dark winter's day, when the yellow fog hung so thick and heavy in the streets of London that the lamps were lighted and the shop windows blazed with gas as they do at night, an odd-looking little girl sat in a cab with her father and was driven rather slowly through the big thoroughfares.
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Jakes Brown didn't know what to think that July morning when he saw the young black man waiting for him by the toolshed.
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When I left my office that beautiful spring day, I had no idea what was in store for me. To begin with, everything was too perfect for anything unusual to happen.
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Naledi and Tiro were worried. Their baby sister, Dineo, was ill, very ill. For three days now, Nono, their granny, had been trying to cool her fever with damp cloths placed on her little head and body.
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