Four sagely birds convened at the tallest tree in Vogel Valley, each carrying a branch from their respective homeland. After exchanging a minimum of words they laid down their gifts, completing a magnificent nest. Before the ceremony was complete a huge shadow engulfed them all.

It was a dark starry night when Lauren and Max ventured into the woods. They had been looking forward to this all week. It was the only night the Sporkle Comet would be visible and only for ten minutes. Not to repeat again for many lifetimes.

This weekend’s honored guests had traveled from near and far to be here tonight. The last couple arrived just before midnight; they approached the looming gothic doors, carrying nothing but one backpack between them, and knocked three times with determination.

Rebecca nervously cut the turkey with her brand new carving knife. Once finished with the light meat she allowed herself to momentarily gaze down the packed banquet table at familiar faces. After a second or two she wiped the sweat from her brow and returned to the bird.

Edgar was about to embark on his least favorite activity of the day, the morning walk to his office. A short fifteen minutes and the reason he bought his house where he did. Little did he know what he would be facing every morning at precisely eight minutes past the hour.

Her toes tingled as she moved closer to the edge of the cliff. Heights had never been her strong suit. “Harold, is that you?” A hand reached over the cliff drop off.