“Ohh…look! Toadstools!” Erin pulled her hand out of her sister’s and ran ahead. She bent low, her nose within an inch of them.

“Careful,” Sarah said. “They’re poisonous.” She stood beside Erin. It would be three more hours until there mother came home from the market and she was relieved of babysitter duty.

“No, they’re not!” Erin said her mouth forming the pouting face that signaled an oncoming tantrum. “They’re fairy houses!”

“Well, don’t get so close. The fairies might take you,” Sarah said without thinking.

Erin jumped back. “They wouldn’t do that, would they?” Her hand found Sarah’s again and squeezed it.

“Don’t worry,” Sarah said giving Erin’s hand a reassuring squeeze. She couldn’t stand to see Erin scared. It was worse than a tantrum. “Let’s go so you can have a turn on the merry-go-round.”

“Okay!” Erin started skipping and Sarah had to run-walk to keep up.

Behind them, out of the shadows of the toadstools’ caps, blinked a pair of miniature, emerald green eyes that followed the sisters’ progress down the street with interest.

“Momma, why do the flowers grow there?” Sheila looked up at her mother as she pointed at the red tendrils spilling down the grey stone wall from which delicate lavender blooms and clover-like leaves clung.

“Because that’s where the flowers can get through from the other world.” Her mother smiled.

“Really?” Sheila’s eyes widened.

“Of course. See there?” Her mother pointed to where the flowers flowed along the horizontal crack between the stones in the wall. “If you squint, you can see the other side where there are lovely green meadows and the sun is shining.” She looked up at the clouds in the sky that matched the stone wall.

Sheila strained on her tip-toes trying to see through the crack. “Lift me up, Momma, please! I want to see.”

Her mother lifted her up and Sheila pushed her eyes up against the crack. Her face broke out in a smile. “I see it, Momma! It’s wonderful!”

When Sheila’s feet touched the sidewalk as her mother put her down, she reached for her mother’s hand. They resumed walking down the street. Behind them, it looked like a ray of light was highlighting the flowers trailing down the stones. But it was probably just a wishful thought before the rain.

“Excuse me.”

Alan looked up from his computer screen. “How can I help you?”

“I don’t know how to say this…” the woman trailed off.

“Take your time.” Alan smiled in what he hoped was a nonthreatening manner. “Do you need help on a research project?”

The woman laughed and shook her head. “No, there’s a turtle walking by the window over there.” She pointed across the library’s lobby to the back wall of windows.

“A turtle?” Alan frowned. “As in the reptile?”

She nodded her head.

“Right.” Alan looked around the desk and picked up the first box he found, turning down the flaps. They never mentioned turtles in library school.

He followed the woman over to the windows. As she said, there was a small turtle–a tortoise, actually–walking along as if it didn’t have a care in the world. Alan scooped the small tortoise up and placed it in the box. He thought it would hide in its shell, but it seemed to take in the new surrounds with equal ease as shuffling along the windows.

Alan shook his head and went back to the desk. He switched on the P.A. system and asked, “Has anyone lost a turtle? If so, please come to the desk and describe for return.”

What was he going to do with the turtle if no one came to claim it?

Josephina smiled when she saw the two suitcases standing beside her neighbor’s garbage cans. It looked like they were a couple ready to go on vacation.

“Did you see the neighbor’s garbage cans?” Josephina asked Pat. “They look ready to go on a holiday overseas with their fancy new luggage.”

Pat looked out the window and shook her head. “Don’t be silly. They’re obviously throwing out those suitcases.”

“I don’t know. They look awfully nice to me.”

Pat shook her head and didn’t think of the suitcases again.

But when Josephina got home from the market after work her neighbor was standing in his driveway shaking his head. She walked over.

“Mr. Ramos, is something the matter?”

He looked at Josephina with his brow furrowed. “You haven’t happened to see my garbage cans, have you?”

Alan looked out over the mess of left by the winter storm. Building would have to cease until the ground dried and they could pull the machines out of the cloying mud before it turned to hardened clay.

He raised his eyes to the lingering clouds that covered the horizon, still dark and heavy with un-spilled rain. When Alan saw the white cloud that looked like a shark fin cutting through the sky, his breath caught in his chest. Alan turned his back to the clouds and ran to find his mother. They would listen to her if she spoke of the omen and they had to be warned.

There were seven pigeons sitting on the statue’s spear on the grey Saturday morning when Sheri took her break.  She always spent her breaks outside, even when when the skies were filled with clouds and mist clung to her coat so that she shivered.

No one ever joined her during her breaks and Sheri watched the pigeons with envy as they preened and cooed, comfortable in one another’s company.

“I bet it’s nice to always have a friend with you.”

As she turned to go back inside, Sheri swore one of the pigeons blinked at her. But when she turned around to take another look, they had taken off as one leaving the statue and her behind.

The little girl came running down the steps of the museum with tears cascading down her cheeks and her hair streaming behind her. She saw the stone lion, perched high above on its weathered stone base and flopped down beside it. Head buried in her hands, she let herself sob. No one came down the stairs after her.

“Why are you crying, little cub?” a voice rumbled above her like stone rubbing against stone.

The little girl rubbed her eyes and stared up at the stone lion. His chin was resting on his paws as he looked down at her. He hadn’t been in that position before, had he?

“Why are you crying?” the lion’s mouth moved and stone dust rained down on her head.

“The other students were picking on me, again….sir.” If a lion, even a stone one, talked to you, it was best to answer the question politely.

A low growl shook the base of the statue and the little girl scooted away until she felt the branches of a bush digging into her back. “Cubs can be cruel, but you must not listen to them.”

“Why not?”

“Because they are stupid, little one, and scared of what you may become.”

“Really?” She rubbed her nose with the sleeve of her jacket and didn’t notice she’d stopped crying.

The lion nodded his head. “Anyone can see you will become a lioness, little one, and that scares some.”

The girl smiled and whispered to herself, “A lioness.”

The lion smiled down at her. “Now go back before they find you missing, little one.”

She scrambled to her feet and brushed the leaves from her pants. “Thank you.” As she turned she heard a rumble like the crunch of gravel. When she spun around, the lion was back to his original position as if he’d never moved. She squared her shoulders and walked back into the museum. The sun came out behind the cloud and if anyone observant had been watching the little girl as she climbed the steps, they might have seen what looked like a shadow of a lioness walking beside her. But, they’d probably convince themselves that their eyes were playing tricks because of the bright sunlight.