by Sam Hooker
Stories were always full of heroes. Everything that Sloot knew about them screamed that this was just the sort of setting where a clever warning would come across as witty and cool. “You just watch it,” they’d say, and look particularly dashing doing it. Unfortunately for Sloot, witty and cool were not tools in his repertoire. He settled instead for a stoic silence, one that he managed to maintain for nearly a full minute before his instinct for panic took over, and he ended up curled in a ball on his mother’s doorstep.
Sladia must have seen that coming, because she appeared in the doorway a moment later with a cup of warm milk and a blanket. Sloot took the cup. Sladia draped the blanket over his shoulders and led him gently inside to the sofa.
“Have a good night’s sleep, son. It’ll all look better in the morning.”
Sloot wished that she were right. Unfortunately, he couldn’t think of a single occasion when he’d awoken even minutely less panicked than when he’d gone to bed. But despite all of that, as he sipped his milk, he felt comforted. Secure. He was a far cry from sure that everything was going to turn out for the best, but as long as everyone he cared about was depending on him, what could he do but try?
“Should I include this bit in the song?” asked Igor.
“What, the hero boldly drinking warm milk and trying not to cry himself to sleep?”
Igor shrugged. “Nowhere to go from there but up.”
Acknowledgments
It's no small amount of work that goes into making novels of my silly stories. While I'd love to take all of the credit ... well, no, I wouldn't. It's bad enough that my name has to be on the cover. Time to share some of the blame--er, credit--around.
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To Lian Croft, Najla Qamber, and Rebecca Poole for the illustration, cover, and layout, respectively.
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To my publisher, Lindy Ryan, for the copious and only-mildly-threatening reminders that deadlines are not suggestions.
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To my family, Shelly and Jack, the best reasons I could ever have for doing anything (also for reminding me to eat on occasion).
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Thanks also to Shelly for being my first reader. She does all of my readers a service by pointing out the best (and not-so-best) parts of the initial draft.
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And last, but far from least, to the readers. I'd be utterly remiss in failing to acknowledge those who take the time to read and review my work. Even when they disagree with me on the overall level of literary genius in my work, their ratings and reviews are my life's blood. Not literally, but literarily. Thank you for caring enough to grace the internet with your feedback, for better or for worse.
About the Author
Sam Hooker writes darkly humorous fantasy novels. He lives in California with his wife and son, who he hopes are secretly amused by his howling at the moon with the dog at all hours of the night.
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http://shooker.co