by Esther Davis
The silver dragon perched on the hilltop. Its rider tightened its saddle and adjusted the bundle on its back. Crystal’s sandals pattered on the cobblestone as she gaped at the mail dragon. She ran on, clutching the envelope to her chest.
Dear Papa,
Can I call you Papa? I’ve always wanted a real papa.
Crystal scribbled the words on a scrap of parchment as soon as she slipped away from Mama’s rant. “Made the biggest commotion when it flew in. Rotten magic folk should get the message already. The mayor tried shooing her off, but the rider insisted. Stubborn as rhino dung!”… Continue reading “Dear Papa”