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Story Title: The Book Dragon “Why did I agree to be here so early?” Kody yawned as he stopped by the pile of paint cans in front of the old, faded mural on the side of the magical bookstore. “Because repainting George is an all-day job.” Laney leaned a ladder against the wall. “Plus, you’re an artist and need to suffer.” “His name is George?” Kody glanced up to the focal point of the advertisement; a red dragon sitting on a pile of books, reading. His wings stretched out and his tail curled around the corner. “He looks more like a William with those reading glasses.” He opened one of the paint cans and frowned. “This is the color Mrs. B wants to use? It’s so…dull. I thought she wanted to really liven him up?” Laney shrugged. “This is...

Thanks to all the wonderful agents who spent hours reviewing the submissions. We could not hold these events without you, and we very much appreciate your time and efforts! Thank you for supporting the SavvyAuthors community! This Spring Pitchfest, we had over 4,000 submissions to Agents and Editors. Thanks also to all of you who pitched! If your story did not find a home in this Pitchfest, we are certain it will with your dedication and perseverance! And do not forget that we are a short 6 months away from Autumn Pitchfest and registration for this free event is OPEN! ~RJ Garside, Leslie Dow, Dawn McClure, and Walker Dow and all the volunteers at SavvyAuthors! Agent Requests All requests have been submitted. Updated March 31 @...

Story Title: Portal Roulette “What are we looking for again?” Kody asked as he and Laney tromped through the woods on the way to the Portal Forest. “Earlberry. I need it for my Potions final. It’s only found in the desert.” They reached a grove of hundreds of trees with a shimmering aura around them. Each one a portal to a different place either on Earth or a different realm. None of them were marked. “Which way should we go?” Laney asked. Kody shrugged. “I thought you knew.” She glanced at each tree, trying to figure out which one to choose. They all looked alike. All they could do was to try one. “Let’s go that way.” She led Kody through the nearest tree. They came out of the tree to a beautiful meadow of colorful wildflowers...

Story Title: Choosing Fate The harsh metallic thuds echoed through Melantha’s research facility. She did her best to ignore them but could feel the sweat on her palms and her back grow ever colder. She pushed the sensation away, eyes focused on the sigil she was drawing on the stone floor. The banging was as oppressive as the emptiness of this stone building. She could only hope the others had gotten far enough away through the emergency tunnels. Hartmut, who’d always looked more like he should be wielding a sword rather than a pen. Taimi, her fingers dirty from her time in the garden. Menander, who doodled little pictures on the edges of his papers. Blythe, with her easy smile and jokes to ease the tension. The people who’d become...

Story Title: Not All Who Wander Are Lost (But We Are) “Well, that’s not much help,” I murmured, hands on hips. This had to be someone’s idea of a joke. There was nothing, no one, as far as the eye could see, except for this sign. This seeming beacon of salvation. I squinted at the sign post towering over me with arrows pointed every which way labeled with particularly disobliging directions such as THIS WAY, THAT WAY, ANOTHER WAY. I turned as hysterical laughter bubbled up from behind me. My best friend Kristin was doubled over, hands on her knees, laughing, with tears streaming down her face. “You okay?” She tried to speak, pointing at the sign, but was laughing too hard to get the words out. She wheezed and clutched her sides, as...

The setting sun marked the end of the day’s work and the forest trees sent sugar-messages to each other in excited whispers. After weeks of debate, Green Pine had been nominated to take the workers’ complaint to the Ancient Redwood. Tonight, she would speak for all those whose chlorophyll factories toiled from dawn to dusk all year round, and for the deciduous trees who had already turned yellow, orange and red, exhausted by the back-to-back shifts of northern summer nights when the sun never set. ‘Ancient One, I send you freshly manufactured sugar from my highest needles. Please accept this gift and in return allow me to address the Council.’ The old Redwood rustled his leaves. He'd anticipated this confrontation ever since the day...

I’m trapped in death as I was trapped in life. Stuck spectating someone else’s life. We all make our choices, I suppose. And then we must lie with them. My choice… was Aro. # “You’re so beautiful.” I don’t know what melted me more. Aro’s smooth talk or his velvet hands. They lit fire along my skin. “I need you.” And me, the fool. “I need you, too.” How quickly his eyes hardened, a shade drawn across his warmth. “I can’t take you in my bed, Charice. I have a mistress already.” He waved an arm at the empty floor we stood upon, caught up in his own drama. “She is the stage. First… always… the show must go on.” His eyes burned with a passion that would never be for me. I wanted to leave. God knows I did. But my heart wanted what it...

Shit shit shit shit. It was the litany in my head as I fled the hot, too-cramped clerk’s office and flung myself down on the curb outside. I pressed my knees together, lest some passerby get a view straight up the tulle configuration I’d picked up from the secondhand shop yesterday afternoon, last season’s discarded prom dress, no doubt. Staring down at my cleanest pair of combat boots, the laces untied, I willed myself to breathe in through my nose, out though my mouth. I was unsurprised by the crunch of footsteps behind me. Cooper sat down next to me and crossed his legs, lacing his fingers around his knee, managing to look elegant in his expensive suit, while I imagined I looked like the tooth fairy after a rough night, in this...

The house phone was ringing as Sofija walked into the flat, frost clinging to her heavy winter coat. Tossing her keys on the foyer table she quickly picked up on the third ring. "Yes, hello," she answered in a soft Eastern European accent as she pulled her mobile from a pocket. Two missed calls. "Sofija, it's Henry Morton, I've got a listing I want to show you, a last-minute cancellation. Are you available tomorrow morning?" Sofija sighed; it had been a long day and her train was delayed coming out of the city. She was also growing weary of the property hunt; the affordable ones were gone almost as soon as they were listed and the rest were rubbish. "Please to send listing first?" she asked in somewhat broken English. "Yes, I can...

An old man in a dark suit hobbled up a gravel path through a rural graveyard. Twisted old oak trees with bark darkened with age lined the meandering path, reaching across like steepled fingers with Spanish moss hanging down. Golden sunlight trickled through the leaves as the sun descended beneath the horizon. The old man carried three bouquets of flowers cradled in his left arm. He read the names on each of the headstones as he passed by, but he turned from the path and walked through the graves until he came to a group of three, two large and one painfully small: Douglas Ellender, loving father and husband, Caroline Ellender, loving mother and wife, and Marni Ellender, beautiful daughter, ages thirty-five, thirty-one, and six...

Celestial Beach The sound of the trunk closing, enveloping my single suitcase, rang with an odd finality. I stared at my warped reflection in the rear window. “I shouldn’t go.” Sandra, my best friend since high school, put an arm around my shoulders. “You need this, Dee.” Her smile managed to look both hopeful and concerned. “You deserve a vacation.” I couldn’t shake the strange sense of wrongness looking at my car gave me. I’d always loved driving… before. “Something isn’t right.” Sandra’s smile faded. The concern in her eyes deepened. “David’s been gone two years, Dee. You can’t hide in this house forever.” Was that what I’d been doing? Hiding? It felt more like waiting. Waiting for my life to make sense again. Waiting for the...

Toni stared at the invitation in her hand. Adams High School Class of 1973 50th Reunion. She’d been seventeen in 1973. The year the U.S. left Vietnam. Roe v. Wade. Watergate. She hadn’t had a clue about any of it back then. High school had been her whole world. Dancing to Elton John’s “Crocodile Rock” and watching Sonny and Cher on TV. With long brown hair, long legs, and a miniskirt, she had looked a little like Cher. This was her first trip back to Adams in years, and it was bittersweet. Her father was gone now, and her mom was in assisted living. Toni, their only child, was putting the family home up for sale. That the timing coincided with her high school reunion felt providential. She drove out to the now vacant home in the...

Welcome Christmas while we stand, heart to heart, and hand in hand.” This was one of my favorite quotes from one of my favorite childhood Christmas movies. I remembered fondly sitting on the floor of my living room, excitedly waiting for it to start. It didn’t matter how many times I saw the movie, year after year, it signaled the start of the Christmas season for me and my family. Everyone knew that the Grinch was an old sourpuss, but deep down he had kindness in his heart. Isn’t that the way humanity is supposed to be? That is what I was taught growing up. Volunteering in soup kitchens with my parents, Girl Scouts for me, Boy Scouts for my brother, gathering toys at Christmas for local foster kid organizations, and many other...

Two words changed our lives forever. “Active shooter.” We all knew what it meant. We’d had drills. When Principal Deen’s tense, hushed voice spoke those words over the PA, we understood. Sandra Collins hurried to the door. I was glad she was class leader today. I wasn’t sure I’d have thought to move so quick. Even as she pressed the lock, loud pops rang out from somewhere nearby. Screams echoed through the walls. Eyes wide, Sandra slapped the light switch, plunging us into semi-darkness, the only light from the two windows. “One, two, three—come to me.” Mrs. Brady, our sixth-grade math teacher, gave our ‘remember phrase’ in a low, clear voice. I slipped quietly from my seat, following my classmates. We gathered near Mrs. Brady’s...

The eucalyptus burnt down in the hot summer of 2022. One minute the huge tree was there against the skyline and then ‘whoosh’ it was alight in a sparkling red inferno. The conclusion—it was because of the hottest summer we’d had in the outback for some years. We could have told anyone that. Even when we dragged our beds out of the house to sleep under the stars at night, the temperature remained humid. Sleep was difficult. Everyone did a lot of stargazing. With no lights, the Milky Way was awesome. That tree stood on flat land at the end of the houses and at the beginning of the bush. It stood alone and was a gathering place where the women sat and discussed community affairs, children chased each other around it and lovers carved...

Story Title:Elizabeth’s Story Department of Homeland Security Form 194: Proof of Legal Entry into the United States Even now, I sometimes dream that we are all together. Before Dad and Mom and I left. I was the youngest of five, but my big brother and my sweet sisters stayed behind. I never saw them again. In my dreams, we are still kids, laughing and playing. I wake up and cry. I was thirteen; I was a child. I didn’t want to leave the only home I knew. My parents said “We are leaving. You’re coming with us.” And that was that. I didn’t choose to be an “illegal alien.” I wasn’t a Martian on a spaceship. The journey here was one long nightmare. Sixty-six days. We got lost. More than once. Grown men were crying and begging to turn...

Story Title: Convergence I first saw the door as a child. I’d come in from the pool and got turned around. The hotel halls all looked alike. As tears pooled in my eyes, I found a door with a purple tag with an image of a door. Purple was my favorite color. Perhaps someone in this room could help… I turned the knob, not remembering it wouldn’t work without the card, and not thinking to knock. A warm rush of air engulfed me as it opened, easing my goosebumps The smell of popcorn, distinct and familiar, drew me inside. The air inside looked misty. Voices called faintly. “Hello?” Footsteps sounded. A boy came into view, his thick brown hair messy. He panted, like he’d been running. “I—I’m sorry if I woke you up…” He frowned, glancing...

Thank you to all the wonderful agents and authors who participated! We could not do this without you! Don't miss the 2024 Spring Pitchfest! Good luck to everyone and please let us know if you connect with an agent who loves your work! ~The Savvy Crew Cindy Bullard at Birch Literary: Please follow all of these instructions: A new email to me at cindy at birchliterary dot com Subject of email: 2023 Autumn Pitchfest Request Body of the email should be a formal query. For PBs, please attach the full ms. as a word document attachment. For all others, please attach the first three chapters of the finished manuscript. All requests must be received by 12/15/23. Requested Projects: HOMETOWN COWARD by Christine Guidry Law BUMBLE BEE...

2013 Grandma plopped on the couch with a book in her hand, a fan on high speed aimed at her face. “I need to lie down, Harper. it’s so hot out there you could fry an egg on the pavement.” Harper looked out the living room window at the hayfield. If she squinted, she could almost make out the paved road beyond it. Not like where she lived, with city blocks full of sidewalks, paved driveways, and parking lots. The best two weeks of the year were almost over. Her mom was coming back to the farm tonight to take her home. She would start fourth grade next week. “C’mon, Barney.” She held the door for him, and they scooted out together. The Jack Russell sprang ahead as she grabbed a bucket of tennis balls and an old racquet from the porch...

‘Emergency. Which service do you require?’ ‘There’s a giraffe in my lounge.’ A moment of silence followed. ‘Maisie, is that you again? I understand you’re lonely and want someone to talk to, but this number is for genuine emergencies.’ ‘This is an emergency. There's a giraffe in my lounge.’ Her voice wavered, a little less certain than before. The call handler sighed. ‘Yesterday, you thought your house wasn’t where it should be. Twice this week you went shopping and forgot to close your front door, then blamed a burglar. You get confused. Do you think it’s possible you imagined it?’ Maisie acknowledged her recent episodes of confusion. She agreed to make a cup of tea and check if the animal disappeared while she was in the kitchen...