Tingles

On the other side was a clearing—a half acre of icy grass ringed with bare trees. Mrs. O’Leary was sniffing around,wagging her tail like crazy. I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. In front of me, the steel-colored East River flowed sluggishly. White plumes billowed from the rooftops in Queens. Behind me, the Upper East Side loomed cold and silent.

I wasn’t sure why, but the back of my neck started to tingle. I took out my ballpoint pen and uncapped it. Immediately it grew into my bronze sword, Riptide, its blade glowing faintly in the winter light. Mrs. O’Leary lifted her head. Her nostrils quivered. “What is it, girl?” I whispered. The bushes rustled and a golden deer burst through. When I say gold, I don’t mean yellow. This thing had metallic fur and horns that looked like genuine fourteen-karat. It shimmered with an aura of golden light, making it almost too bright to look at. It was probably the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.


TDF pg.77-78