Book Four: Chapter 1

Mike stepped onto his front porch, a warm thermos of coffee in one hand and a book in the other. The wood creaked beneath him, and he sat on the porch swing overlooking the front yard, the chains squeaking under his weight. It was early, not even seven yet, and the house behind him was silent. He rarely used to get up so early, but had discovered that dawn was officially the quietest part of his day. The peace lasted for almost half an hour while he listened to the sounds of the front yard while reading. Singing birds whizzed back and forth, chasing the insects that lived in his yard. Eventually, he heard a loud crash, followed by the sound of Tink yelling at the fairies, and suppressed a laugh.

Looks like his day was going to start early.

His front yard consisted of a large, maze-like garden that was centered around a stone sundial in the middle. The shrubs grew up to waist height, and he navigated the maze from memory, working his way toward the center. Despite the fac