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Clunker: A Fictional Narrative

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When I got home that afternoon, a dented clunker was parked in the drive. I recognized the green station wagon right away. It belonged to Miss Asher, my best friend Mason’s mom. She used to be a real beauty before Mason’s absentee dad, Owen, got a hold of her. At least, that’s what people said—auburn hair, pink cheeks, a tilt to her chin, tall and angular with a sway that made men stand a little taller.
I bolted across the lawn, past a colossal Sequoia tree, and made a beeline for the door. Inside I could see my mom and Ms. Asher leaning against the kitchen stove exchanging anxious looks. Ms. Asher whispered, “How is he?”
“They’re doing all they can,” Mom whispered back. She stopped when she saw me and managed a smile. “Hi dear. How was school?” …show more content…

Finally, just to put a lid on his drivel, I agreed to practice, but he kept babbling about the proper handling of an Xbox controller. As he paused to shift into hardcore gamer mode, I heard a faint clip-clop-clip-clop, like muffled blocks clattering against the wooden floor.
I stiffened.
“What was that?” Mason asked, dropping his controller.
The noise was getting louder and started to sound more like the clop of staggering hooves.
“I don’t know,” I said, standing up, my legs shaky as I looked around the room.
A millisecond later, the sunshine that streamed in through the window rippled in front of us. A circular doorway appeared—a swirling whirlpool of yellow light—and a creature jumped through. From the waist up, he looked like a typical man, but his furry hindquarters, the color of dark chocolate with snow-white spots, looked like a horse. He had wings, a scraggly goatee, four hooves, and a long tail. That was the first thing I noticed. Then I saw his eyes. They were gray and rimmed with gold—pure and luminous and mesmerizing. So mesmerizing that froze like a Cupid garden statue staring up in awe.
Aiden help us, he pleaded. Use your gift before our realm collides with your world and we’re …show more content…

“Maybe—”
“Maybe, it was some kind of weird cosmic glitch?” Mason studied the shutters. “Like in the Ultimate Alien game where a hole opens up in space and you can peek into another dimension.”
As I considered his theory, a memory surfaced. Gramps in his office talking about Sirethiel. It was an enchanted kingdom full of light, he’d said, smiling at me across the desk where he was letting me win at checkers. That’s where I’d learned to speak four different languages—including Elvish—tinkered with magic, and practiced sword fighting with a gnome.
The creatures who lived there were protected by horse-men. He thumbed through his dwindling stack of black pieces. Once, under an enormous pine tree, I spied one in full battle armor gazing up at a galaxy filled with swirling constellations—reading the stars, looking for warning signs. It was his duty as king of the centaurs and protector of the realm.
My heart pounded. “That was no cosmic glitch or illusion. The beast that jumped through the yellow light was a centaur.”
“A what?” Mason said. I told him the

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