by Peter Falkenberg Brown Apr 10, 2009 It was the resounding thump of an alien child falling from the sky that woke Farmer Welton from his lazy slumber. He had wandered out of his farmhouse around noon, carrying a jug of his special home brewed root beer and some Oreos. Sitting there in the backyard, at an old beechwood table, he had gorged himself until he had finally fallen asleep. Did he dream? We’ll never know, but we do know that he drooled.
moreby Peter Falkenberg Brown Jan 11, 2009 It was a mad scheme. The Count knew this, for he was not at all mad. Grim. Formal. Humorless. Boring. But not mad. Even his enemies at court admitted that the Count was a fount of common sense. His only friend, as well as his sixty-year-old mother, would sigh in unison as they bit into their crumpets at tea time. They would sigh, and nod, and admit that the Count was too boring to be mad.
more~ A story for every child who has ever lost a dog by Peter Falkenberg Brown Aug 15, 2008 Being a clever Wiggle Dog, he pulled back and forth until the old spring on his very personal leash went “Pop!” and he was off! He ran this way and that way, and up the yard and down the yard. Freedom was a glorious thing, and Bogey the Magnificent was Proud and Happy to be On the Run.
moreby Peter Falkenberg Brown Apr 22, 2007 The Master of the Moon was just finishing a detailed sketch of a dimple when the light over the message tube flashed red. He paused, and thoughtfully erased a smudge on the paper, trying to ignore the insistent flashing. He had been expecting it for days.
moreby Peter Falkenberg Brown Feb 23, 2004 Being naked, hot, and dirty was normal for the small tribe that lived on the edge of the foothills on the East African plain. The daily struggle and violence of life a million and a half years ago made novelties like bathing entirely unnecessary. Thus, the actions of two of the women in the tribe seemed to the others to be an incomprehensible waste of time. Even the leader of the group, possessed as he was with superior strength and intelligence, gazed in bewilderment whenever the women walked into a river and bathed.
more... or ... The Other Toe Day by Peter Falkenberg Brown Jan 9, 2002 ~ A true tale for children by Peter Falkenberg Brown Jul 14, 1999 It was a Tuesday when it Happened. The baby sparrow, affectionately called Lewie by his father and mother (short for Llewellyn, of course), had decided that today was the Day when he could fly. His mother, Frances, had looked at him severely and cuffed him with the tip of her left wing. “Fly? At your age? I don’t think so!”
moreby Peter Falkenberg Brown Jun 5, 1999 The man woke suddenly, surprised that it was still dark. He rubbed his head as he glanced at his wife sleeping next to him, wondering if it was his headache that had awakened him. He could see their four children sprawled across the other bed and the floor of the motel room, limbs askew in impossible positions.
moreby Peter Falkenberg Brown Feb 7, 1998 Rupert was a peaceful cat. He lay in the sun all day, dreaming of nice things that walked on four legs. He was a playful cat. One day, a small, timid mouse named Eggbert danced across Rupert's nose.
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