What people are saying about Fiscal Pear:

"Magical" - Toni Morrison

"I loved this book. Highly recommended" - Midwest Book Review
"Extremely Imaginative and suspenseful" - Stories for Childrens Magazine

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Fiscal Pear
A silvery beam of moonlight spreads up the mountainside,
illuminating everything in its path. Lush, dark green moss blankets
the ground and stops suddenly at the base of a giant tree that
reaches far up into the night sky. The trunk is so large that a car
would fit in it very nicely, if a space were hollowed out in the huge
wooden form. As the moonlight traverses up the tree’s front, it’s
met by giant branches that seem to fan out near the treetop. The
branches are so wide and thick that a little boy or girl could fearlessly
walk from one end to the other. Embedded between the
branches’ thick leaves is a glowing yellow light that appears to be
an opening, leading to some secret place in the body of the tree.
A mournful sob followed by the sound of crying penetrates
the night’s silence, causing the owl stationed nearby to wonder
what the matter is. He moves in closer, close enough to investigate
without being seen. His eyes fall upon a little figure huddled on a
bed in a very unusual room carved in the tree. He notices that the
rings on the walls, floor, and ceiling are all connected and he starts
to count them. “This is a very old tree,” he says to himself as he
loses count. By counting the rings in a tree, he can tell how old it
is. “A ring for each year,” he muses. Another sob reminds him why
he’s there in the first place. He opens his mouth in astonishment
as he looks at the face of the little creature on the bed. Never has
he seen anything like it. “What is it?” he silently asks himself. He
keeps looking at the odd shape lying on the cozy wooden bed.
The peculiarly shaped head turns in his direction, and he silently
backs into the shadows to keep from being seen. Big, blue, tearful
eyes seem to look right past him. The owl realizes the sobbing
sounds are coming from this little fellow. He looks so pitiful, the
Fiscal Pear and Shimmer in the Call of River Whale
Fiscal Pear
owl immediately feels sorry for him and wonders what could have
made him cry so.
Unable to be held back, large teardrops gently flow from
the small, strange creature’s eyes, leaving soft streaks on red cheeks
that appear to have been gently brushed across the light green
face by a paintbrush. As the owl studies the little face from the
shadows, he realizes the shape of its green head is familiar to him.
Of course! It’s a pear, of all things. All his life, he’s seen them on
a tree or on the ground below the branch they had been clinging
to. Never has he seen one with eyes, let alone eyes that could
cry. As the pear turns to lie on his back, he brings up a little arm
to wipe the tears. Now, this is too much, the owl thinks, this is no
ordinary pear!
His train of thought is broken when he hears the little pear
whisper between sobs, “Shimmer…Shimmer. Why did this have
to happen to us?” Now the owl is determined to find out what has
this little one so upset. The owl has heard the word “shimmer”
before. His memory serves him correctly, as a picture appears in
his mind’s eye of the little lights that flash in midair, suspended
above the ground during the warm summer nights. He makes the
connection that shimmers are lightning bugs. His mind’s made
up. He’s staying on that branch all night, if needed, to find out
what has happened.
The pear lies still, as the picture in his mind switches to the
last time he saw Shimmer’s light flickering under the white translucent
mound that, in the pear’s mind, can only be Shimmer’s
grave. The pear’s little body shudders at the thought of how helpless
they both were in the clutches of Cutter and his evil partners.
He feels sick to his stomach as the sound of his own screams echo
through his head. A chill runs up his spine as he remembers how,
in the dark woods, he screamed and screamed for Shimmer while
Cutter’s cold steel appendages grabbed him from behind and carried
him away, leaving Shimmer to die. Shimmer’s only response
was the weakening flicker of light in the thick darkness that enveloped
the mound that buried him.