The wolf stood in front of the brick house where three little pigs were hiding.
“You won’t blow this house down. The door has four locks, the windows have solid shutters. You won’t get us.”
The wolf couldn’t disagree. But if it was impossible to break in, it wouldn’t be so easy to get out either.
The wolf climbed onto the roof, poured gasoline down the chimney, and dropped a match.
The pigs struggled with the locks, squealing terribly. When screams and flames subsided, the wolf walked to a nearby orchard to fetch apples—they’d go nicely with roast pork.
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alt="Harbinger of Death by Jonathan L. Tolstedt"
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height="630"
>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="Famine Man by Deborah Tapper"
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>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="The Price of Belief by Andreas Flögel"
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>
sizes="(min-width: 1200px) 550px, (min-width: 750px) calc((100vw - 130px) / 2), calc((100vw - 50px) / 2)"
alt="The Abhartach's Thirst by Andrew Kurtz"
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loading="lazy"
width="1200"
height="630"
>