Books with author Terri Hubbard

Where are you, teddy? The girl felt around with arms and legs. Not under the sheets anywhere, and not tucked up in bed. Naughty teddy! He must’ve fallen on the floor.The girl pushed her head over the edge of the bed, looked down in the dim light, and saw him straight away. There you are! I can see your furry leg, sticking out from underneath the bed.But then a thought made her shiver, like a cold breath down her back. I can’t swing my legs out from under the blankets, because the monster under the bed will get me.So the girl reached, fingers squirming, down from the safety of her bed. Almost, almost there! Stretching forward, she reached and reached, and snagged him by the paw, snatching him back into bed. She held him tight, wriggling to slip back underneath the quilt. But there it was again, that cold feeling, making her turn towards the bedroom window, which yawned open like a black mouth onto the darkness.Then the girl was gone, and teddy found himself all alone. No protection against the monster, who hadn’t been hiding under the bed after all.

In a two-dimensional world a story cannot begin once upon a time, only once upon a place. The place was a point upon the plane far from the brightness of the Zero. Here lived the blues, who definitely did not come in all shapes and sizes. Everybody was a quadrilateral, mostly rectangles who dreamed of being squares, and the squares themselves, whose hierarchy ranked them in order of size. The blues knew and accepted that the big squares enforce the Rules, although some whispered that the squares wrote the Rules to suit themselves (or at least interpreted them that way). But these whispers, most often by disgruntled quads who would never be square enough, would always be betrayed to the big squares, who sent out squads of squares to deal with anti-geometric behaviour. So it was not unusual to see a group of squares chasing some poor old trapezium along the x-axis, or banishing a bitter oblong to the furthest co-ordinates of the blue plane; and nobody would bat a convex angle at the sight of a bunch of blues marching the heretic Indigo, a rebellious rhombus, in for questioning. In fact it was during such an interrogation, with Indigo facing a row of senior squares, that it happened. This is the story of how one brave blue changed the world.