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Immy knocked on his open door. “Mr. Mallett?”The look on his narrow face was pained. “What’s with the Mr. Mallett? When you don’t call me Mike, it’s usually trouble.

Kaye George
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Imogene Duckworthy did not like pigs. She was fairly fond of cattle, having grown up surrounded by them. She hadn't been around pigs much. In fact, this was the first time she'd ever driven toward a pig farm.
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That's it, Uncle Huey!" Imogene Duckworthy whipped off her apron and flung it onto the slick, stainless steel counter. "I quit!" If only her voice didn’t sound so young.
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There was that sound again--snap, then a footfall. She tried to whirl around as a dark form--Dear God--sprang with a splash from the darkness--grabbed her from behind, shoved her under the water.
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There has always been the wind. Since our planet began to turn, there has been the wind. This ball of dirt and fire and water started to spin. The air stirred. And Earth's time began. But the beginnings of the wind are lost in the mists of time. The wind blew before the Appian Way wended through Rome. It blew before the Parthenon crowned Athens. Before pyramids sprang up in Egypt. Before the Mayans. Before the Incas. Before Man.
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