Indie Snippets - Excerpts from New Indie eBooks, Free Kindle Books, Discount Ebooks

Being feared and respected comes at a price... #Thriller

2012-02-22T13:24:00.000-08:00

Lawless Justice

by Karina Kantas

Raven offered Cass a beer, and then stood in front of her. “Okay, I don’t want you altering you life just yet, not until it’s official.”
Cass’s heart skipped a beat.
‘So it’s not going to be as easy as I thought. I wonder if there’s going to be an initiation.’
“I want to watch you for a while before I make my mind up.”
“Sure, I’m not going anywhere,” Cass replied.
“This is how it will be. You will turn up where and when I want you, with no exceptions. And you will do anything I tell you.”
“Anything,” Scarlet repeated, hinting to what might be expected.
“You will dress down,” Raven continued. “Don’t try to compete with us. When in public, you do not know us and we don’t know you. You will be on your own. Is that understood?”
“Yep, you want me to hang out with you, but not with you.”
“You’ve got it,” Eve giggled.
“Just carry on with your life as normal,” continued Raven, “the change will happen if and when you’re accepted as a Kittn. I want you to hide in the shadows and watch. See how we operate, our attitude. And think seriously about what being a Kittn entails. I don’t know you well enough to decide whether you’ve got what it takes.”
“Whether or not you can keep up with us,” Storm added.
Raven nodded. “We’ve made our rep by fighting and it’s our tough attitude that keeps it. I’ve yet to see how you fight.”
“We know you have a hard heart.” Jade said, “With the shit you went through with your ex, it’s not surprising.”
“Each of us are rebels in our own right,” Scarlet declared. “What about you? Explain to us why you think you’re tough enough to be a Kittn.”

Can a future exist when all hope is lost? #Romance

2012-02-22T12:18:00.000-08:00

Always There

by K T King

“Are you sure you don’t want a lift Kell?” Rachel asked as Mike and Laura clambered into her car.
“I’m sure. Jake said he’d pick me up after his meeting. He must be running late.” Kelly checked the road to see if she could spot his car, the wind hitting her face and threatening to knock her down.
“Try ringing him again. If he doesn’t answer I’m giving you a lift, I don’t want you hanging around in the dark on your own, especially not in this weather.”
“Ok. Hang on.” Kelly rang Jake’s mobile for the tenth time, it went straight to answer phone. She sat in the front seat of the car and cursed Jake, under her breath, for showing her up in front of her friends. Laura smirked to herself.
“It’s not a problem Kell. There’s bound to be a reasonable explanation. Jake never goes back on his word.” Mike reassured her.
“Yeah, you’re right.” Kelly replied as she seethed and gritted her teeth all the way home, thinking that no explanation would be reasonable enough for him to forget her.
“Thanks guys, it was great to catch up again. How about same time, same place next week?” Kelly asked climbing out of the car.
“Yeah, let’s do it. We don’t spend enough time with each other anymore. We’re starting to grow apart, and I for one, don’t like it. Oh and make sure Jake comes too, I could do with some decent eye candy!” Mike answered chuckling.

This could be the best two weeks of their life... #Romance #Comedy

2012-02-22T10:15:00.000-08:00

Summer Lovin'

by Donna Cummings

"So, Bootsie, why do you think hunky neighbor guy is washing that car all day long?"

Mia turned the puppy around to face her, and he tilted his head, as if he was seriously considering her question. Or admiring his reflection in her oversized sunglasses. The Bichon was tiny, a cotton ball's worth of white fur, but he had the most expressive dark eyes. Not to mention a big personality.

Bootsie barked, twice.

"You might be right. Maybe he's a chauffeur."

Mia resettled the pup in her arms, stretching her bare legs out on the lawn chair. There was a lot to be said for the leisurely life of a dog-sitter.

Such as the neighbor with dark flowing hair and enviably tanned skin. He wore cargo shorts and flip flops, and a faded blue T-shirt that stretched across his broad chest. When he bent over to scrub the sporty BMW's hubcaps, Mia bit her lip.

She didn't know whether to admire his well-developed calves or the nice curve of his backside.

After the past few years stuck in a windowless office, running her brothers' business, she had decided it was time to do something else with her life. Dog-sitting for the next two weeks was the perfect opportunity to figure it out.

Mia sipped her iced tea, holding it away from the puppy's curious paw so she could set it on the plastic table next to her. "I wouldn't have expected chauffeurs to be so muscular, but he is getting a pretty good workout with that wax on, wax off routine." She lifted the puppy. "See how his arms flex each time he washes the hood of the car? I know! Maybe he's a music video stud."

The car washer/chauffeur paused, the sponge gripped in his hand.

One Lie Can Destroy All Truths #YA #Mystery

2012-02-22T06:10:00.000-08:00

Deck of Lies, Book 1: Justice

by Jade Varden

“Oh, Rain,” she squeezed me, and for several minutes we stood there and cried together. Finally she pulled away, wiping tears off her cheeks. “Honey, what are you doing here?”
“Looking for you. And Aaron. And my…and…everybody.”
“Rain,” her brown eyes, so much like my mother’s, were filled with pain as she reached out to brush a stray curl behind my ear. “You can’t be here.”
“But you haven’t been answering my calls! I had to come here.”
“Oh, Rain,” she turned away, bowing her head to hide behind a black curtain of hair. “I can’t take your calls. I can’t talk to you, and neither can Aaron. Not right now.”
“What? But Aunt Ronnie-”
“It’s not me, Rain, it’s the lawyer.” She held up her hands defensively.
“Rain? Rain!”
My breath caught in my throat, and for a moment I couldn’t catch it to speak. “Aaron!”
He appeared at the top of the stairs. Aunt Ronnie stepped before me, blocking my view of him just as he came into sight. “No. Aaron, back upstairs. Do you want to make things worse than they already are? Rain, you’ve got to go.” She put her hands on my shoulders and bodily turned me toward the door. “Aaron, upstairs!”
I’d heard her use that firm tone only once before, when I was six. I’d found the birth control pills in her purse and thought they were candy. Aaron was no longer rushing down the stairs, and I had no choice but to let her physically push me out the front door.
“Aunt Ronnie,” I turned and seized her hand, my eyes boring into hers. “Just tell me why they did it. Just tell me they aren’t terrible people.”

Laments, Love and Loneliness #Fantasy

2012-02-21T12:38:00.000-08:00

The World In-between

by IE Castellano

Morning broke with a soft cold light inching through Berty’s window. Getting out of bed, Berty paused to look at the gray sky though his window thinking that finally the outside reflected the inside. After he showered and dressed, Berty walked downstairs to sit at his desk.
Opening a book, he began to read. A chapter into the book, Berty realized that it was yet another book that not only described different places within the Empire but also chronicled someone’s journey through it. "You could not travel yourself," muttered Berty aloud, "so you filled your study with books about people who did." Theodore ringing his wind chimes interrupted his pondering about how lonely and confining Silvia’s life must have been.
"Good morning, Emperor," said the young Dwarf.
"You are cheerful today," Berty said.
"Getting ready for Wassail," said Theodore. "This is my first Wassail as Head Tender. I am so excited."
Berty could not help but smile as Theodore placed his breakfast on the table. After Theodore left, Berty ate. His mind wandered more and more with each chew. Taking a sip from his goblet, he lowered it slowly to the table saying, "I did give you my life -- I set you free." He closed his eyes and could feel her limp cold hand beneath his as he wrapped her fingers around the metal of the scepter. Opening his eyes, a single tear rolled down his cheek.

Rise and Fall: Book One of the Blood and Tears Trilogy [Epic Fantasy]

2012-02-21T11:45:00.000-08:00

Rise and Fall: Book One of the Blood and Tears Trilogy

by Joshua P. Simon

The Hell Patrol, a mercenary outfit, are sneaking out of their employer’s encampment in the middle of the night…

“Where are Cassus and Krytien? They should be here by now.”

“You got me, Boss,” said Kroke, again cleaning his nails.

“We’ll give them ten more minutes and then we head out. They can catch up later.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Is that really necessary?”

“Is what necessary?”

“That,” said Jonrell pointing at the dagger. “How can they be dirty if you’re constantly cleaning them?”

“They aren’t. Just habit I guess. Like the way a blade feels in my hand is all.” Kroke sheathed the knife and looked up. “Don’t sweat it, Boss. They’ll be here.”

Jonrell sighed.

“See, that’s them coming out the camp now,” said Kroke with a nod. He pulled out a different knife, picking at the nails on his other hand.

Jonrell shook his head and turned toward the encampment. He squinted and saw some movement but couldn’t make out more than a few shapes in the night. The distance was too great. “How can you tell it’s them?”

“I can’t.” Kroke shrugged his shoulders. “Just trying to be positive is all.”

“You’re unbelievable, you know that.”

“Thanks.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

Kroke sheathed his blade and pulled out another that he started spinning in his hand, a small grin crawled across his face as he watched the blade dance in the moonlight.

“How about you do something useful and grab Yanasi? Something’s up and I need her eyes. That’s definitely Cassus in front but there is no way that many soldiers were worth bringing with us.”

“Sure thing, Boss.”

Indie book with a movie in the works #YA #Thriller

2012-02-21T10:33:00.000-08:00

The Pineville Heist

by Lee Chambers
(based on the award-winning screenplay co-written with Todd Gordon)

Aaron whipped through the long grass as fast as his legs would carry him. His eyes were filled with angst and adrenaline. He was still in shock. Not every day you see a dead man. Not every day you see that much money either – he glanced down at the backpack in his arms. Must – keep – running.
Aaron was nearing the edge of the dense forest. Not much further now. He slowed down, beside a huge uprooted tree, throwing down the backpack, breathless. Looking ahead, there was the clearing leading to the stream, a direct route to the school. Almost home free. He hoped that Steve and Mike were far away from here. They’d all laugh about this later. Suddenly, a branch snapped. He wasn’t out of the woods yet.
Aaron threw himself over the uprooted, felled tree and crouched behind the trunk. Suddenly, Aaron remembered the backpack, just out of reach. He periscoped his head to look over the top of the tree, but there was another loud crunch, somewhere in the impenetrable green-darkness of the forest. He ducked and cursed himself.
Another twig cracked into two pieces, beneath the force of the alligator skin boot. The figure’s right foot, almost touching the discarded backpack, as it blended evenly with the green foliage.
“I know you’re out here...” The figure pulled back the hammer with a telling click. Aaron squirmed uneasily and tried to push himself closer to the tree. Perhaps he could disappear into a hollowed out section, he thought. But, instead, there was nowhere to go. He was cornered.

The Palaver Tree - Truth was never as deceptive as this ... #MysterySuspense #Thriller

2012-02-21T05:27:00.000-08:00

The Palaver Tree

by Wendy Unsworth

The Palaver Tree Having made the decision to teach in Africa, Ellie desperately tries to persuade her friend, Diane to agree....

it’s pointless kidding myself. I’m not going to go off travelling the world on my own. This way I’ll be helping to teach all the children you raise money for. We’ll be a team. Wouldn’t that be great? Come on, I need you to come around on this or I won’t go!’ She put a hand across the table and squeezed Diane’s arm. ‘I’ll be a miserable hermit and it’ll be all your fault.’
Diane laid down her fork, placed her own hand over Ellie’s and gave it one last try. ‘Ducana is thousands of miles away stuck in the middle of the dark ages. The place is unhealthy; the water is full of horrible bugs. There are snakes and spiders and mosquitoes, Dysentery, malaria, AIDS, for God’s sake.’
Ellie let out an explosive snort, ‘I hope you’re not suggesting I’m going to catch that!’
‘Don’t be flippant Ellie. It’s my duty, as your loyal friend, to point out the bad bits.’
‘Would you like coffee? Or tea?’
‘Coffee, I think, good and strong.’ Diane had tried scaring her off and that wasn’t going to work. ‘Okay then, I would miss you,’ she said and gave Ellie a puppy dog look that was promptly ignored.
’Gabriel will look after me, you know him well enough to trust that he would never have asked if it wasn’t going to be safe. I’ll never get a chance like this again and I only even considered it because you’ve known Gabriel for a long time and think so highly of him.’ When Diane didn’t immediately jump in to agree she added, ‘you do, don’t you?’
‘Of course I do.’

Even deep space is no longer safe... #ScienceFiction #Speculative

2012-02-20T15:29:00.000-08:00

We Of The Universe

by Rachel Cooper

“Your work has shown us that you are ready for a closer connection with the universe,” the woman said. “Of course, it will lead to more restricted personal surroundings, but it will allow you to better commune with the universe.”
“Your thoughts will be monitored and downloaded to the system, to be studied for their true meaning. The universe will speak through you,” the man stated.
“It will be worth what you have to pay for the privilege,” the woman finished.

Legeve did not know how to feel. She bowed her head, as if overwhelmed by emotion at the opportunity, because that was what was expected from her. Their lives were centred around this. For women of her class, it was as high as you could go. To become a vessel for the universe was an ultimate honour, and yet it meant that she would never see the man again.

With her every breath and thought monitored, he would not be able to reach her, and she could not go with him. The pain that thought gave her made her realise she wanted to go with Staffan. She did not want to become a part of the universe, but wanted to go out in it and live it.
“I enjoy my work here,” she said. “Surely there are others more worthy than me.”

Her overseer's smile vanished, and the man and woman’s smiles became smaller.
“Why, dear, you honestly don't know what a big honour this is,” her overseer said.
“It is not to be discussed,” the man said, a finality to his words that seemed to freeze her insides.
“Your body has been moved to its new confines already,” the woman said. “This meeting is just to congratulate you and to prepare you. Now it is time for you to go back and prepare for the joining.”
“It has been wonderful working with you,” her overseer said insincerely.

"Rih al-Khamsin." It was an eerie howl rather than a cry. #Historical Fiction

2012-02-20T11:50:00.000-08:00

Khamsin, The Devil Wind of The Nile“Rih al-Khamsin!”

by Inge H. Borg

It was an eerie howl rather than a cry. It multiplied, and it traveled fast. The urgency of the warning sent the inhabitants scurrying. In great haste, children were collected, drinking wells covered, and home sites secured. All against the onslaught of the feared wind whose turbulent airs had gathered strength from far away.

Its father, the Sirocco, was spawned over the hot desert. Before it abandoned its cyclonic origins to reach across the Great Green Sea, clawing its young islands along the way, racing toward the densely forested virgin coast of the primitive Northern Continent, it gave birth to its unbridled son Khamsin, the Devil Wind of the Nile.

This new turbulence then grew into adolescence over the desolate sandy expanses of the great desert, gathering strength and hot dust, reaching merciless maturity as it slammed into the broad Valley of the Nile. With the Khamsin’s arrival, the populace knew to expect accompanying sand storms; and swarms of vermin covered the ground bringing widespread devastation to the already parched land.

Only when the Great Wind’s hot fury was spent, did its evil spirits seem appeased, and the land and its people could breathe anew, and anticipate the life-giving flooding of their river once again.

Just as once again, the principles of Ma’at would be adhered to. It was their cornerstone of all life, of all culture. Its teachings were to suppress all chaos stemming from ones emotions, feelings and reactions. To keep life in absolute order. No deviation was permitted. Those who offended its strict laws were severely punished - often by a cruel death.

But during those enervating days when the incessant wind raged, Ma’at was often breached; usually calm tempers flared; violent crimes were committed. And it was said, that people vanished without a trace.

Selena and I found ourselves staying in a haunted guesthouse on Kauai... #NonFiction #Literary

2012-02-20T09:50:00.000-08:00

Toward the Double Rainbow

by Gabriella West

Our trip had a strange coda. We had only two nights left to go. Selena was in the hallway outside the bathroom of the guesthouse when a low, whispery male voice said at her ear, “Come over here…” She rushed into my room, pale with a sickly, anxious smile, to tell me what had happened, after checking to see if there were any teenage boys hiding in the house or garden. But no one was there. She asked if we could go to a hotel nearby. I didn’t want to, pressed her to tough it out. “You can sleep in my room,” I said. We switched rooms, and I spent an uneasy night in her bedroom, which did have an eerie presence about it. It was hard to put into words, but it was as if I was being watched by some slightly malicious spirit the whole time.
The next morning, I plucked up my courage and marched over to Sharon’s next door. “Selena heard something,” I said. “She thinks there’s a ghost in the house.”
I wanted Sharon to laugh—even wanted her to smile complicitly with me at Selena’s paranoia, I’m sorry to say—but her reaction was oddly blasé, muted. “Well, she’s not the first one who’s felt something,” Sharon said. “The place used to be rented out by the military. And then when B., my ex, and I moved in, we held séances there. I used to be a medium.”

Two guys and beautiful girl struggle for love in 1830's Natchez, Mississippi #Romance #HistoricalFiction

2012-02-20T05:11:00.000-08:00

Beloved Destiny

by Carol Ann Fears

William grasped her hand in his, kissing her fingertips one at a time, and then held her hand in both of his. “Your name suits you so well. Did you know that Carina means “beloved” in the Spanish language? You are meant to be my beloved one. I knew from the day I entered the door at Camellia Hill and our eyes met. Although you were upstairs peering at me over a rail, your face reflected a purity and intelligence that enthralled me in that instant. My soul has cried out to call you my beloved. May I?” William continued to hold her hand as if he could not bear to relinquish it. “My beloved Carina.” He repeated her name with a smile. He kissed the palm of her hand, the brush of his lips giving her the first hint of the sensual pleasure which could occur between a man and a woman.

He's going to wish he'd listened to her... #Paranormal #YA

2012-02-17T10:35:00.000-08:00

'A Matter of Perception' - a collection of perception challenging urban fantasy and magical realism short stories.

by Tahlia Newland

Ellen scanned the rocks and gasped. Ragged ethereal bodies floated towards her, staring with the sightless eyes of long dead sailors.
“Ghosts!” she rasped, grabbing Con’s arm. “Con, there’s ghosts. We have to get out of here.”
He looked around, unmoved. “Jesus, Ellen,” he said disdainfully when his gaze returned to her. “You’re imagining things.”
“Con, will you just listen to me for once. Just because you can’t see them, doesn’t mean they aren’t here. We honestly have to get out of here!”
“You never said you had a girl,” a voice croaked from the shadows.
Ellen and Con spun around. An old woman stepped into the growing light. Her pale eyes glittered keenly and her skin had a strange greyish sheen.
Ellen shot a glance at Con. He frowned.
“It’s the woman that told me about this place,” he whispered. “I didn’t know it was a rendezvous.”
“Get ready, now.” The old woman stared at Con with chilling intensity, then turned towards the now glowing horizon. “The sun heralds the winter equinox.”
Con looked at Ellen and shrugged. “It’s what we came for.”
The woman chuckled quietly and Ellen had a strong urge to grab Con and run away, but the ghosts stopped moving and gold suddenly streaked the horizon. A giant fiery orb rose into the sky, splashing light across the land. It gilded the rocks, bringing their jagged forms into stark relief. It kissed their faces with the promise of warmth and illuminated something rising to the surface of the ocean. Ellen peered into the brine. Beautiful white-faced women stared back at her, their long hair flowing on the waves behind them.
An eerie, enchanting song danced on the rising breeze. Con took a step forward. Ellen grabbed his arm.
“No,” she hissed.
.

2 Personalities, 2 Attitudes, 2 Goals, 2 Methods - 1 Darkness

2012-02-17T07:31:00.000-08:00

Forgive Me, Alex

by Lane Diamond

The mere sight of him pushes me to the dark edge of my mind, where sanity hangs like... like... like a balloon in a tornado!

I stand in shadow across the street, one amongst many in the crowd of curiosity-hounds gathered to watch a monster's release. As my face blazes, fists clench and teeth grind, I can easily imagine the onset of a stroke, an aneurism, a pulmonary embolism, a raging scream—

'Control yourself, Tony!'

I long to charge across the street to destroy him—no remorse—as if stepping on a cockroach. Only sheer force of will prevents my doing so.

For seventeen years, I assumed this day would never come. How could they even consider releasing this vile creature, this very personification of evil?

In 1978, Norton murdered innocent kids who'd barely tasted of life. He tortured two of them beyond the limits of rational imagination, for to imagine such deeds was to summon a devilry that we dared not face. Yet the jury held him not responsible, a victim himself to the ravages of an illness that drove him to insanity beyond our reckoning.

He thus resides forever in the darkest pit of my psyche, chained to me in perpetuity. Now only two choices remain: I must cast off those chains, or yank them tight around his neck. Yes, I must obtain satisfaction. The idiotic jury seventeen years ago, and today's flawed court system, has left little recourse. No one else seems willing to deliver him to justice.

I am willing. After all, this is what I do. It's who I am. Indeed, the devil himself made me into this hunter of monsters. What a sweet twist of fate this is, that I may still, finally, administer justice.

Sugar's dance with Van when emotions run high [Romantic suspense]

2012-02-17T04:30:00.000-08:00

Sugar's Dance

by Katie Mettner

Edwin McCain opened up into “I’ll Be” and he pulled me in, turning me into the first steps of a Viennese waltz. My body responded immediately to the music and I felt the breeze blowing across my face as we waltzed. I was floating around the floor my eyes closed as he led me through turns, not talking, just dancing, flowing and moving like two flowers in the wind. I tuned out all the thoughts about how bad of an idea it was to depend on him this much and enjoyed being led through a dance that made me love life. It was a dance that let me forget about the nightmares and the pain that was my life right now. The dance floor was what made me smile when nothing else could by releasing the weight of life from my shoulders. There was something here that gave my soul a break from the demons. A break from having to be something I couldn’t figure out how to be and simply be who I was. I was a dancer and I was dancing with someone who loved being here as much as I did. I knew it wasn’t a good idea to love how it felt in his arms as he danced me around the floor and I knew it wasn’t a good idea to like him as much as I did, but each turn he led me through and each time he pulled me to him to dance me across the floor was filling my tank up for what I had to face over the next few days.

If you feel like getting fired, please do as Mr. Sean Smith #comedy #satire

2012-02-16T12:35:00.000-08:00

Working for Heat

by Donovan Sotam

Sean is trying to get a raise with Mike's help.

‘So, what we need to do Mike, is: climb up that tree, reach the second floor, cut the window with the diamond tip pen and move from there.’ said a very confident Sean.
‘Why can’t we just enter through the front door?’ We both know the access code.’ In fact every other person in a mile radius of that building knew the access code. It was the famous 1234 code that comes with that lock.
‘Well, where would be all the fun in breaking in, if we were just to enter in. No, no! We must do this properly.’
‘Ahh, yes, where would all the fun be in trying to avoid physical damage, from let’s say…’ a small pause while he observed his surroundings ‘falling down from the tree?’
‘Ohh, shut up, Mike, you’re taller than me, you could probably reach the second floor without the tree.’
‘Very funny Sean. Tall people’s jokes! Haha.’ replied a bit angry and even more sleepy Mike.
Eventually they decided to just go through the front door, since the window that was cut led to a storage room that was closed from the outside. They made their way into their boss’ office in a very cinematographic way, jumping, diving into the cover of a desk, running and sneaking, all to avoid, what apparently was not missing the chance to use the cheap ninja costumes to the fullest.
They were now in the waiting room and Mike picked up the National Geographic and started whistling the National Geographic theme.
Yeah, I read it this morning’ said Sean. ‘There’s an interesting article on Atlantis.’
‘Where did they find it, this time?’
Sean didn’t answer for he had managed to pick the lock of Mr. Anderson’s office.

It's All Coming Back to Me Now by Lovely Whitmore

2012-02-16T08:27:00.000-08:00

It's All Coming Back to Me Now

by Lovely Whitmore

Latrease Wilson falls for an older man who doesn't want the samethings in life. He's not ready to settle down. A traumatizing event causes herto develop a rare type of Amnesia, forcing her to lose sight of who she is andthe people around her.

Randy Jackson, a child psychiatrist, is the older man she's been dating andcomes to her rescue only to discover she doesn't remember him. Even moresurprising, he learns that Latrease is pregnant.

The only choice he has is to take her home and begin helping her recover, whilehoping her lost memories aren't gone forever.

During which Randy battles his own emotions and discovers his feelings for herare deeper than he'd been willing to admit.

He would have left a note ... #Literary #Speculative

2012-02-16T06:30:00.000-08:00

Speculation

by Edmund Jorgensen

By the time Buddy Johnston vanished, his humiliation had become so abject, and so public, that I don't suppose many people would have been shocked if he had washed up one morning on the banks of the East River with rocks in his pockets and stones in his shoes. But after more than ten years of acquaintance—or friendship, as he and I both charitably called it—I knew Buddy too well to imagine that he could have committed suicide without leaving a note. A note at the very least, and more likely a tract, a manifesto, a complaint in the classical sense and quite possibly in classical meter. He was just the sort of man who could have begun composing a suicide note and so lost himself in admiration of his own prose style and depth of feeling, become so overwhelmed by the pathos of his own situation, that he forgot entirely he had intended to do away with himself. Then he would have published the note in The New Yorker with an introductory remark explaining how writing had "literally saved my life."

A heartwarming foray into the world of cats and the humans who love them #YA

2012-02-16T04:30:00.000-08:00

The Tribe

By McCarty Griffin

GriffinArching her back and yawning, Tia stretched lazily in the sun-warmed grass.
Her orange, tan and tabby pattern, splotched across snowy white, had lately taken on a scruffy appearance, and her hipbones, never heavily padded, were perhaps a touch more prominent than they had been in past years. Her eyes, however, focused now on the hillside below the cats’ fragrant bed, were as lime-green bright as in her kitten days. Next to her, a silky black cat with a white chest and paws turned her head sharply to peer down the hillside.
“Someone’s coming.” Bella rose to her feet in one quick movement with her ears forward and her gaze intent, but Tia merely waited with her eyes half-closed. “Sounds like a bouncer, by the racket. A bit too far from the litter, if it is.”
An explosion of orange and cream burst through the grass just before them. Whipping a tail fat with excitement, the young tabby skidded sideways to a stop. “Eldest, eldest! A great beast’s coming! Everyone must hide!”

Indie Snippets is Now Accepting #NonFiction

2012-02-15T12:50:00.000-08:00

I've added the new category of non-fiction (after many requests). Just a head's up in advance though: spammy get-rich-quick ebooks likely won't get posted.

More than a zombie book, it is about the bonds of family, friends and what one man will do to protect them #Horror

2012-02-15T10:21:00.000-08:00

Zombie Fallout

By Mark Tufo

Reuters – Estimates say that nearly three thousand people nationwide, and fifteen thousand people worldwide have died of the H1N1 virus or Swine flu and nearly eighty thousand cases have been confirmed in hospitals and clinics across the United States and the world, the World Heath Organization reported. The influenza pandemic of 2010, while not nearly as prolific as the one that raged in 1918 still has citizens around the world in a near state of panic.

New York Post (Headlines October 31st) – Beware! Children Carry Germs! – Halloween Canceled!

New York Times – (Headlines November 3rd) – Swine flu claims latest victim – Vice President surrounded by family and friends at the end.

Boston Globe – (Headlines November 28th) – Swine Flu Vaccinations Coming!

Boston Herald – (Headlines December 6th) – Shots in Short Supply – Lines Long!

National Enquirer – (Headlines December 7th) – The Dead Walk!

There would be no more headlines.

It started in a lab at the CDC (Center for Disease Control); virologists were so relieved to finally have an effective vaccination against the virulent swine flu. Pressure to come up with something had come from the highest office in the land. In an attempt at speed the virologists had made two mistakes, first they used a live virus, secondly they didn’t properly test for side effects. Within days hundreds of thousands of vaccinations shipped across the US and the world. People lined up for the shots, like they were waiting in line for concert tickets. Fights broke out in drugstores as fearful throngs tried their best to get one of the limited shots. Within days the CDC knew something was wrong. Between 4 and 7 hours of receiving the shot roughly 95% succumbed to the active H1N1 virus in the vaccination. More unfortunate than the death of the infected was the added side effect of reanimation.

Caught with his hand in the cookie jar... #MysterySuspense #Romance

2012-02-15T09:13:00.000-08:00

Playing Fields

by Karen Stillwagon

“Oh Baby, if I can’t have you now my balls are going to burst!” Good lord there have been many bad lines muttered in a bar but this is by far the worst. But I agreed to take the case and I was here to do a job. But if I had to deal with this guy for too much longer I’d have to hurt him. Finding him was easy. He was the one making his rounds to all the single women, and subsequently getting rejected by the same. The night was too young and the crowd too sober for him to find any takers. After securing a place at the bar where crowd was in view, I lean over to order a drink, wearing my black sundress that fits like a glove, my breasts all but falling out, and Charlie makes his approach.

My name is Cassidy Fields. My job is to follow husbands...

He woke one day with super powers ... but no memory #YA

2012-02-15T08:25:00.000-08:00

Dairy of a Teenage Superhero

By Darrell Pitt

My name is -.
Wait.
Scrub that thought. I don’t know my name. I don’t know where I am. I don’t know how I came to be here.
I don’t know anything.
I’m lying flat on my back looking up at a ceiling coated in peeling mustard yellow paint. Light is streaming in through a window, casting long rectangles across the floor and the bed. A white curtain, fading to brown, covers the window. To its left hangs a small white hand basin. It’s leaning badly, clinging grimly to the wall by only one bracket. A single square mirror sits directly above it. A plain round clock to its left counts the minutes.
3.07pm
This place has all the trappings of a seedy motel room. It even smells like it. Stale. Unkempt. Even the mattress smells bad, covered by a grimy grey sheet.
I stagger to the hand basin. My head feels heavy. Everything seems to be vibrating from side to side. I feel like I’ve been drugged. I look into the mirror.
The face staring back is completely unfamiliar.
But this is me. Male. Seventeen. Maybe eighteen. Short cropped brown hair. Brown eyes. A small scar on the left side of my chin. I’m wearing a blue and white striped t-shirt. Grey jacket. Faded blue jeans. My shoes are clean, though worn.
Then I examine my hands. Not working hands. Not someone who’s used to outdoor labor. I’m probably still at school.
Wherever that is.
But I still have one overriding question.
Who am I?

New England mystery on Kindle: Yankee Swat #MysterySuspense

2012-02-15T04:30:00.000-08:00

Yankee Swat

By Myrica Blue

I had noticed that he was carrying a long object wrapped in paper, but I’d figured it was a golf club. “That’s the Boston Post cane?”

“Yep.” He tore the paper off and handed it across my desk. It was made of smooth, polished dark wood – ebony wood from the Congo, according to Pudge Loring’s letter – topped with a shiny gold head. The head was surprisingly heavy and engraved. I ran a finger over it.

“This is just gold plate, right?”

Coot shrugged. “I don’t really know.”

“What’s it worth?”

“I don’t know that either,” he said, suddenly thoughtful. “In fact, I don’t even know if the town ever insured it. Like I said, I wasn’t on the board the last time they gave it out and I never really thought about it.”

“Did your uncle carry it around with him?”

Coot shook his head. “I had forgotten he even had it, until the paper brought it up. It wasn’t in the car when he crashed, if that’s what you’re wondering. My wife found it at his house.”

When a woman confronts her missing lover's mother #ShortStories

2012-02-14T12:00:00.000-08:00

Single Edged Blades: 7 Stories for a Broken & Angry Heart

By Deanna Roy

After driving two hours to her lovers' childhood home...

“I haven’t seen my boy in two weeks, two weeks!” Richard's mother said. “Yesterday he was in town with his wife, he say he cannot stay two more hours to wait for his mother. Too much in a hurry to wait for his own mother two hours!”

My mind stumbled on the unexpected word, then dismissed it. “He--he wouldn’t wait? He said he got here midafternoon. He left me at noon and came here…”

“Already gone! Said he had to move into a new apartment with his wife--new place by her new job. You didn’t know about her new job? That they were moving this week?” The señora sat back, not with spite, but knowingly, and watched me with gentle concern as my mind caught up to her words.

I was too dizzy to answer, pressing my hands on the wood table. His wife. The one he had left many months ago, he told me. He was moving into a new apartment. With his wife.

“You look like you need orange juice. Let me pour you some.” The señora heaved from the chair. I grasped small details of the table and its contents--a loaf of bread, a stack of newspapers--unable to master the broad swath of scenery that had changed like a theater rolling in a completely altered stage.

Do you believe in magic? #YoungAdult #Scifi #Fantasy

2012-02-14T09:30:00.000-08:00

Promising Light

by Emily Ann Ward

“Do you believe in magic, m’lady?” the woman asked.

The first page of the book was in a language Grace had never seen before. “I don’t know,” she told the merchant. “I’ve never seen it.”

“Ah, but just because you haven’t seen something doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist.”

“True. What kind of magic are you talking about?”

The woman waved her hand. “All kinds. Different families are gifted with different magic.” When Grace raised her eyebrows, the woman said, “There are those who can heal the body or break it. There are shape changers from Shyra. There—”

“Shyra?” Grace repeated.

“Yes. They say the shape changers have the power to look like anybody, dead or alive. Some can change into animals. Some can even change into things that aren’t alive. Trees, rocks, water.” She smiled. Her teeth were dirty and cracked. “Perhaps you knew someone from Shyra? Or perhaps you don’t know that you know someone from Shyra because they pretend to be someone else.”

Grace swore she could feel her heart pounding in her ears. Shape changers? It couldn’t be real. They were legends, tales from storybooks. They couldn’t have anything to do with the man who warned her about Dar or with Dar’s sudden departure. “Perhaps. Why should I believe the magic is real?”

“You don’t have to.” The woman sat down again. “But my books will convince you.”

Hard-boiled Detective in Cybernetic Playground #Scifi #fantasy

2012-02-14T06:30:00.000-08:00

Dragon's Teeth

By Suzanne van Rooyen

The Detective meets a contact in a less than salubrious establishment...

Cyrus gazed towards the stage, peering through the
smoky haze that billowed around the crowded tables.
The interior of the club was dark, the walls painted a
deep green--or perhaps even black. Life-size projections of Dizzie Gillespie and Miles Davis moved across the walls, living shadows in moribund dance. The patrons were a motley lot. Some were clad in sequins and feather boas, others sporting the slim-fit catsuits of the modern era, all engrossed in the speakeasy vibe of the club called Dixieland. The kid on stage dipped and swayed beneath the flickering blue and orange lights, the sax sitting snug in his fat cherub mouth. His lips, Cyrus decided, were
made for caressing a wind instrument into sonorous ecstasy.
The detective tapped his feet to the rhythm of the drums, his eyes still fixed on the saxophonist, his criminal accomplice: Cleo. The kid was young, not yet qualifying for longevity treatments. Still au naturale in the bloom of late adolescence, his face doused in freckles and framed by the tight springy hair of his African heritage. Young as he was, Cleo was smart with a ruthless street savvy cultivated by a hard life lived on the sidewalks. He was Cyrus’s connection to the underworld. Half Chinese and half black, Cleo was the poster child of the lower end district: part Chinatown, part 1940’s Louisiana. This strange juxtaposition was the new New Orleans and Cyrus loved it—the warmth of nostalgia in his belly, the hankering for a past he had never lived but only read about in books and seen in gritty black and white films. He had been born two centuries too late, a situation he lamented.

How much is enough? #Thriller #ActionAdventure

2012-02-14T04:30:00.000-08:00

H10 N1

by M. R. Cornelius

A flu pandemic has ravaged the country. Four friends are driving west, looking for a safe place to hunker down.

As Rick zipped along, Devin scanned the highway.
"This is so weird, not seeing other cars coming or going."
"I told you," Rick said. "The mass exodus is over. People got to wherever they were going a long time ago. There's no one left but us stragglers."
Devin chuckled. "They're all hunkered down now, waiting for their refrigerator to kick back on."
"Or in their bomb shelters," Judith added from the back seat, "organizing for the revolution."
Massaging his bald head, Devin said, "I'm just not sure they'll stay put."
"Why not?" Rick asked. "Either they're in a safe place, or they're dead."
"I think we're heading into Phase Two." Devin turned in his seat toward Rick, and the two women in the back. "First all the stores are looted, the spoils are stock-piled. And I'm not talking television, here. I'm talking necessities. But there are only so many cans of corn out there. Now that the stores and warehouses are emptied, people will start robbing each other, don't you think?"
"Yeah, I suppose." Rick propped his arm against the window, his hand twisting his ponytail.
"Phase Two will be all about the hysteria," Devin continued. "No one knows how long this will last. So how much food is enough? You may have twelve cans of tuna. But wouldn't twenty cans be better?"
"So people will venture out to rob their neighbors," Rick said. "I can just see it in the history books--Starkist Wars."

Deep Wounds Are Not Only Physical... #Literary #SuspenseThriller [under $3]

2012-02-13T11:55:00.000-08:00

The Depths of Deception

by Ian Fraser

Despite appearances, the following extract describes emotional pain.

Deep wounds are an educational process. It begins with the realization that a piece of flesh is gone and will never return. The body knows it has been disfigured; the conscious mind must be restrained from self-disgust, and the continual pain must be perceived as merely signals from torn nerve receptors. The jagged perimeter of the wound and its exposed tufts of severed muscles flex perpetually – an internal forest of scratching claws. The nostrils enter the picture; one becomes accustomed to the metallic tang of an open wound.

Deep wounds require daily attention; their owner becomes intimate with its crevices. Few wounds are symmetrical, each has unique features. Lubricated with saline, the fingertips must slide into the wound and pat it with dressings to dry the exposed layers. From doing this, a familiarity comes. The glistening flesh becomes a landscape of points and indicators on a map. Here is blissful nothingness; there a stabbing pain makes the world darken. The secret artwork of the body’s interior is displayed in the wound: vermillion streaks of raw flesh, the tempura brilliance of exposed muscles and tendons.

The owner of a deep wound learns that skin itself is a liquid as the body attempts to seal deep holes with viscous fluid. But when too much flesh has been lost, the body gives up trying to use the seeping liquid. Dark-brown purple clots start gathering like barnacles around the wound’s perimeter. The slowly-shrinking wound resembles the iris of a camera lens, or a dark clotting sphincter. Finally, once this growth is complete, the body abandons the interior crater, a pocket of liquid hidden by a thin veneer. Some catastrophic wounds can never heal.

These are my scars. This is my blood. This is my body.

Five Million Dollar Cat #Suspense #Novella [under $3]

2012-02-13T08:30:00.000-08:00

Five Million Dollar Cat

by Laura Lond

Jack, Amy’s ex, has offered her a quarter million dollars.

Without a flinch, she held out her palm. Jack let out a chuckle.
“Well, not right now. I don’t have it yet, but as soon as I do, it will be yours, I promise.”
Amy narrowed her eyes. Of course. She should have known.
“I see. Another one of your shady dealings, and you want me to help. You know what? Get lost.”
She rose to leave, but he caught her hand.
“Amy, wait! Nothing shady. You promised to hear me out, you said five minutes. Would you at least give me that? Please?”
“Well, okay.” She had no idea why she agreed.
The waiter brought their appetizers and asked whether they were ready to order the main course. Amy no longer cared for the dinner, but Jack insisted, so she picked the first thing her eyes fell on—some grilled fish. The waiter left.
“I’m listening. Five minutes.”
“That’s all I need,” Jack nodded, moving the appetizers closer to her, gesturing for her to eat while he explained. Amy picked up the fork.
“Nothing shady,” he repeated. “Everything’s perfectly legal, comes from a buddy of mine who works at a law firm. Here’s the deal. There’s this homeless animal shelter called Friendly Paws. There’s one ugly cat in that shelter that probably no one will want to adopt. And there’s this crazy old hag who secretly arranged to pay five million bucks to whoever adopts this cat, if it ever does happen.”
Amy was studying her overly entrepreneurial ex in silence. His plan was not difficult to guess.
“You want me to adopt the cat and get the five million. I keep two hundred and fifty thousand and give you the rest.”
Jack smiled again. “You’re a smart girl.”

Ancient Worlds Collide... #HistoricalFiction

2012-02-13T06:30:00.000-08:00

Calling Crow (Book One of the Southeast Series

by Paul Clayton

Runs Like Deer extended his lance into the water to prod the thing. The surge picked up, moving it forward, turning the large head as if it were trying to look up at its tormentors.

“Aieyee!” said Runs Like Deer, drawing back to hide in the dugout. “It moves!” They watched in awe as the thing slid over the small rocks and continued its snail’s pace toward the beach.

Calling Crow turned to Big Nose, who continued to maneuver the dugout. “Go to the shore. We will wait for it there.”

The form broke the surface of the water and did not move. Calling Crow and the others waded into the sea. Calling Crow held his knife outstretched. Big Nose put an arrow to his bow and Runs Like Deer raised his lance and prodded the manlike thing. Nothing happened.

“Pull it out of the water,” said Calling Crow.

The others grabbed the thing by its legs and dragged it up onto the sand. It was big. Big Nose jabbed at the gleaming shell-like skin, his lance glancing off with a loud clatter none of them had ever heard before.

“It has magic skin,” said Big Nose.

“Aieyee,” said Runs Like Deer.

“With his first novel, Paul Clayton has taken me out of today, even out of the world I know best-- the frontier of the early far west-- and plunged me back to an ancient America that resounds with the ring of truth to my very marrow. Make no mistake about it: This is frontier fiction at its finest and most compelling-- characters that yank you into their lives at this most crucial time in the history not only of this hemisphere, but in the making of the New World. -- Terry C. Johnston, author of Wind Walker

Learn how to conquer the planet on your lunch breaks [Humor]

2012-02-13T04:30:00.000-08:00

Supervillain: The Concise Guide

By Ras Ashcroft

A popular brand of dictionary defines the term ‘Supervillain’ as follows:

su•per•vil•lain [soo-per-vil-uh n]: A malicious person usually involved in complex schemes to achieve an ambitious evil end goal such as world domination.

This is a white lie since dictionaries do not even bother to define the term. Perhaps it is because they think that ‘Supervillain’ is a title which bears no real significance outside fiction. Another more probable theory hints at a massive conspiracy involving the heads of the powerful dictionary-industrial complex. Whatever the reason, many average people still aspire to achieve this title. They wish to experience the simple (and clichéd) pleasures of relaxing in a diamond palace on a throne crafted from the skulls of their enemies.

By reading this book, you have taken the first step towards achieving these nefarious goals! Along the way, your loved ones will tell you that this is a ridiculous path to follow. They will tout the merits of following a more traditional career path, such as a Marketing Executive for a major brand or a Cat Groomer for upper class spinsters. Pay little attention to these naysayers. The only Marketing Executives you should worry about are the ones you will eventually hire to manage your propaganda. Similarly, the only cats worth grooming will be the genetically modified lions under your command.

Indie Snippets is Back and Accepting Submissions!

2012-02-11T09:31:00.000-08:00

Well, that was quick. I've made some changes to how I receive content which should improve the site and increase my efficiency.

Summary of most important changes:

1. A submission form. Emails were taking up too much of my time and getting lost. Formatting issues were also one of the biggest disadvantages to fielding submissions in this manner. The new submission form will simply things and allow me to post more snippets.

2. Simplified Guidelines. You can see at a glance what is required. Before I had too many rules cluttering everything up. I've never been a big rules kind of guy.

3. Increased snippet word limit. You can now post up to 300 word snippets -- but any scene intro/setup lines will be included in the word count.

4. Blurbs now accepted in addition to excerpts. If you just want to submit a product summary of your book rather than a snippet, you may. I will still give preference to snippets though.

5. Agents and cross-promotion. You may submit the work of other authors as long as you have their written permission.

Please visit the submission guidelines to view all changes.

Fantasy Kindle Book: "Judgment Rising: The Rys Chronicles Book III" by Tracy Falbe

2012-02-02T04:30:00.001-08:00

Having just survived a vicious attack, Dreibrand contemplates a new threat to his realm...

He dug the grave himself. The physical exertion provided his anxiety with an outlet. While the men gathered stones for the cairn, Dreibrand recalled the image of the male creature who had loomed in front of him. His weapon had been refined and beautiful but the being had been a wiry wild thing and naked except for a primitive bit of covering. This killer born of the Tabren was powerful, vicious, and utterly intimidating.

As Dreibrand shaped the grave, he wondered if Nufal’s haunted past had coalesced into a monster. The sable creature that had confronted him was the incarnation of every strange noise in the night. It made real every tingle of superstitious fear, and Dreibrand believed that it threatened everything that he loved.

After they buried Pel Ton, Dreibrand kept a vigil at the trailhead. For the first time in his life, he envied Shan’s power and wished that he were a rys so that he could send his mind over the land and find his friend. Repeating Shan’s name in his head, Dreibrand clasped the warding crystal on his sword and hoped that Shan would answer him—that Shan could answer him.

Young Adult, Horror on Kindle: "The Other Side of Eden" by Ethan Cobb

2012-02-02T04:30:00.000-08:00

Carrie, a lone teenage girl, isconfronted by her old boyfriend who is now infected with a sickness thatattaches to a single emotion (in this case Anger) and becomes the driving forceof everything that person does:

“HelloCarrie,” the muffled voice of Derek penetrated the window. Carrie snapped her head up. Narrow slits almost hid the purple of hiseyes. Derek grinned. She stared at him. He whistled. Five runners jumped from surrounding positions.

“Youcan’t run,” he said and laughed.

Carriepunched the gas. Tires squealed andsmoke shot from behind. She yanked thewheel to one side and her body slammed against the door. The car tail whipped as she pulled backdown. Derek stood in front of theexit. The Cavalier shot forward. She grimaced, certain she was going toflatten him, but he jumped out of the way at the last second. A flimsy toll gate exploded and the carbarreled onto the empty road. She keptthe pedal pushed to the floor, although she was away from the immediatedanger. Her foot felt like concretestuck to the pedal. She shot pastseveral stop lights, before beginning to feel her heart beating. Buster’s head was low.

“Ithink we lost them.”

Shelooked behind her.

“Definitelylost them.”

Sheturned back. An abandoned car satcrumpled directly in front of her. Sheshrieked and swerved.

Historical Fiction Kindle: "Race Against Time" by Sydney S. Song

2012-02-01T04:30:00.001-08:00

Desegregation caused this historical riot at lunchtime in Florida in the 1970s...

What my psyche witnessed from afar included bodies- people- all over the place moving hastily then not at all. Screaming accompanied this sight. A riot finally registered in my soul; it clearly blocked the path between the gym and a row of bathrooms falling into the area in front of the main back doors. Natural, student traffic couldn’t enter our main loggia or hallway to classes due to the violent storm raging in that region.

A few grown-ups got hold of students dragging them through the doors to the main building as the bell rang out. “Go to class!” But, how? The passage remained blocked.

I turned quickly walking between the building and the cows mooing in their pastures. Were they warning me of trouble ahead or speaking to their owners? Was the noise a signal of a stampede ahead? In spite of these unknowns, it still felt smarter to pass as near as sensible to the herd bellowing as I led the impromptu parade around to the front doors into the high school building.

New Kindle Science Fiction: "Isadora DayStar" by P.I. Barrington

2012-02-01T04:30:00.000-08:00

Isadora and Iphedea escape a monster and find a place to sleep:

"Yeah,okay, truce for tonight. I’m tired too. Look, there’s a bed and a couch. Whichdo you want?"

"Idon’t mind the couch," Isadora said with gratitude. "I’ve slept inworse places."

"I’llbet." Iphedea smirked.

Isadorawould have argued with the girl if she could have. But she had slept in worse places and done a lot worse to do it than thegirl could probably imagine in her most disturbing nightmares. Instead, sheignored the barb, and concentrated on shaking out the small, soft blanket thatserved as a cover for the couch. Iphedea concentrated on stripping down to herundergarments and sliding under the thick blankets on the bed. She moanedhappily and pulled the covers up to her chin. Isadora pulled off her boots andgingerly probed the wound on her leg with two fingers.

"Yeow!What happened there?" The girl asked, staring at Isadora’s leg.

"Justmy own stupidity. I shot myself accidentally."

"Youhave a gun?" That fact shockedIphedea more than the fact that Isadora had shot herself with it.

"Yes.I do."

"Youmean you could have shot that Imanthyr instead of letting me try to whack it todeath in the dark?"

Young Adult Kindle Books: "Silent Invasion" by Neil D. Ostroff

2012-01-31T04:30:00.003-08:00

Somethingwas wrong! Air was still. The house too quiet. Brady the neighbor’s obnoxious collie wasn’t barking outside.

Tim Madison rolled to the side of the bed and flicked on the table light. His desk, cluttered withastronomy magazines, math homework, and his eighth grade history book; themodel airplane with the broken landing gear hanging by fishing line above hisbed, his laptop computer, all looked normal. It was the walls. Ordinarily light-blue, they were red. He looked to thefloor. The blue carpet had become black. Bright brown numbers on his digital clock beamed 6:15 A.M.

Weird, hethought.

He slippedfrom the sheets, stepped toward the door, and turned the handle slowly. Bedroomlight threw his shadow across the hallway’s previously tan, now lime-greencarpet. Formally white hallway walls were yellow.

“Greetings,”a low voice said.

Timspun around. Fear soared up his spine. He tried toscream but a lungful of choked air came out. A creature a few feet taller thanhim, with a human body, beetle-like head, and claws instead of hands, stoodwearing an all black jumpsuit.

“I willtake you to our training facility where the Thispan Council arranged accommodations,” the creature said.

Tim’sheart banged against his chest. He backed against the wall and looked from sideto side thinking which way to run. To his parent’s room? The bathroom? Hismuscles tensed. Should he bolt back into his own bedroom and slam the doorshut?

“What?” he gasped. “Who are you?”

“Iam Kiz,” the creature said. “The council sent me here because they have knowledge ofdangerous events that will occur on your planet. I will teach you skills thatmost assures your success at preventing these events. This is your assignment.”

Tim gulped, pushing panic down. “I… I don’tunderstand.”

“Youare the Earth’s galactic warrior. I will explain more once we are onboard theSkyru.”

Satire Kindle Books: "Six of One" by JoAnn Spears

2012-01-31T04:30:00.002-08:00

Chapter Twenty, The Chapter That Is All About Fashion:

Livy—Mary Livingston, I presume—was on the spot with a device that looked to me like a life preserver. Eyeing it suspiciously, I insisted on an explanation before I would let her get any closer with it. All I got, though, was a smart slap on my rear end followed by gales of laughter from Livy. After the laughter had subsided, the tallest of the four girls, who was likewise the most dignified, introduced herself to me as “Mary, call me ‘Seton.’”

“The bumroll goes beneath your gown, Dolly. It will make your skirts flare out becomingly, like ours do,” Seton said. She illustrated by placing her hands on the top of her skirt, which flared out from her waist with enough flat surface at the top to rest a teacup on.

Had all my years of Jazzercise, I wondered sadly, been in vain? I winced at the thought that a million plié squats had come to this but guessed it would be best to just bumroll with the punches.

“Maestro, a drumroll for the bumroll!” I said to Livy, proffering her my rear end with a jaunty wiggle. Betty Boop might have been impressed, but Livy was not.

Romance Kindle Books: "Tomorrow Blossoms" by Joyce DeBacco

2012-01-31T04:30:00.001-08:00

Kate's husband has just announced he intends to find the boy she gave up as an unwed teen...

“I’m going to find him, Kate,” he said flatly. “I’m going to find our boy.”

Gulls played overhead, water ebbed and flowed at their feet, and sunbeams graced them with their warmth. But Kate was oblivious to all, numb from the shock of Ward’s announcement.

Breaking stride, he turned to her, voice low, somber. “You don’t want me to find him, do you?”

She stared back, mute. The lying had to end somewhere, she told herself. Let it end here, now, today. “No, Ward. I don’t.”

“But he’s our son, Kate, our only son. Aren’t you curious? Don’t you ever wonder what became of him?”

Here. Now. Today. “Ward—honey . . .”

She looked at him, patient, unaware; her shoulders slumped. “Of course I wonder,” she said, loathing her cowardice. “But he has his own life now, honey, his own identity. And having us pop up after all these years is bound to upset him. Don’t you remember why we gave him up? Or is your need for a son so great you’d risk his happiness?”

“Katie, you know I’ve never regretted that our marriage produced only girls. But somewhere in this world, there’s a boy—no, make that a man—who may be wondering about us too. If he’s happy and secure with his life, then I’ll leave it alone. But if there’s a chance he’s even remotely interested in us, then I want to pursue it. It’ll be his choice, Kate. I promise.”

“But so much could go wrong. He could be bitter, he could resent us for giving him away.” And he could have his father’s fair hair and striking green eyes.

Funny Kindle Books: "Wastes of Space" by Darcy Town

2012-01-31T04:30:00.000-08:00

A trio of feline-alien Hunters are interrogating suspects as they search for the main characters: Rake and Ravil...

Lincoln ordered Kennedy to wait in thekitchen. The teenaged Hunter sat on thecounter and rifled through boxes of rainbow-colored cereal. He stuffed handfuls of it into his mouth and trembledfrom a sugar high.

Marx wandered into the kitchen, leadinga young girl by the hand. He stared atKennedy. “Why are you eating that?”

“I like! This sugar tastes sweet!” Kennedylicked his gloves and eyed the child with Marx. “Why are you holding a cub?”

Marx looked down as if he just noticedthe child. “Lincoln asked me to.”

Kennedy dropped into a crouch on thecountertop. “May I chase it?” He looked up at Marx and purred. “I will not kill. I just want to play, bat around.”

Marx frowned. “He did not tell me to release it to you.”

Kennedy twitched and bounced on hisfingertips. He leapt. Marx slashed him across the face. Kennedy landed on his feet and knocked boxesof cereal over. His yellow eyes darted to theFruit Loops and Lucky Charms. He pouncedon the colored pieces. Cereal crunchedunder his hands. He grinned and smashedit all, enjoying the sensation. Helicked the sugary dust off the floor.

"Ariel" by Gabriel Madison

2012-01-30T04:40:00.000-08:00

AngelSantos has just asked the two Archangels in her room, why they are in her room…

Gabriel motionedfor me to sit back down. I sat as he moved his long dark hair behind his ears.“We all watched as the
a
ngel Lailah enteredthe Holy Palace. All of the spirit realms were filledwith songs of joy and love. I don’t remember a time before that Heaven itselfhad been filled with so many angels. They camefrom all over, Nirvana, Shangri-La, Valhallaand many of the other free spirit realms. Everyone stood in awe as Lailahwalked into the Holy Palace. And then…thePalace crumbled into a pile of dust.”

My stomachdropped, my mouth became dry and I balled my hands into fist to keep them fromtrembling. This couldn’t be happening. Not after everything I’d been through,everything I’d done, everything I wanted to forget. It took all the strength Ihad, but I took in a deep breath of air while slowly calming myself. “What doyou mean crumbled to a pile of dust?”

“He means the Holy Palaceis no more.” Michael chimed in. “We searched through the rubble and found thedead body of Lailah. We found no signs of God. It seems he no longer resides inthe spirit realms.”

"In Your Eyes" by Angela Scannell

2012-01-30T04:30:00.002-08:00

Renna has just been rescued from an abusive situation by a passing army and is being hidden away with a very attractive Lieutenant. They're sharing a cot in a tent for the night...

''Thanks,” I could hear the smile in her voice,and feel her warm breath on my neck. She took a deep breath and exhaled on mybare skin. ''You smell like the rain,” she said.

''I can't do much about that,” I said with my ownsmile, finding it easier to talk to her when I couldn't see her.

She reached over me one last time to put out thelantern and darkness flooded the room. I could feel her heart beat against myback, and her warm breath on my neck, and I thought that I would never fallasleep. I'd never been so close to anyone before. This felt so good, socomfortable and safe, I wanted to stay awake and enjoy it.

''Will you sleep now?” she asked in the darkness,her voice tickling the tiny hairs on the back of my neck.

I had to clear my throat again. ''Probably,” Isaid, ''the rain sounds so soothing,” I made it up off the top of my head. Icouldn't tell her what I'd been thinking. That I'd never been held this waybefore. That I liked it and didn't want it to end.

"The Book Traveller" by Alan Moreton

2012-01-30T04:30:00.001-08:00

Thomas Howard had recently retired and was glad that he had said goodbye to the world of work. He was now looking forward to taking things easy and with this thought in mind, he went shopping. Now ordinarily Thomas hated shopping, unless it was for books, because of all things in life, Thomas loved reading. In fact, he would rather do DIY than go shopping and he hated DIY. To Thomas DIY meant Destroy It Yourself rather than Do It Yourself! It is true that Thomas was actually contemplating buying something other than books but this was to be a special purchase.

Thomas sank into the chair and it was indeed wonderfully comfortable. A strange sensation briefly passed through his mind as if a dream had suddenly presented itself and then quickly passed away. Thomas gave it no more thought but just luxuriated in the comfort of the chair as he slid his hands over the soft leather of the arms of the chair.

“Can’t you just see yourself sitting comfortably at home reading one of your favourite books in this armchair?” the old man asked.

“Yes, indeed I can,” Thomas agreed. “But why is it called: The Book Traveller?”

"First Cause: A Novel About Human Possibility" by Paul West

2012-01-30T04:30:00.000-08:00

“Angela?”

Angela swallowed hard; in the sudden confusion, she had momentarily forgotten that Adam was on his way. She returned quietly to the door and peeked around the edge of the doorway into the hall.

Adam had entered the hotel just behind the three policemen; recalling his earlier conversation with Angela, he wondered if she was part of the reason for their presence. He trailed them cautiously, several steps behind so as not to arouse their suspicion. Near the middle of the staircase, she heard one of them call her name--had he even known her last name was Smith?—and noted with mixed feelings that he had guessed correctly about their business there. A hard- faced woman was silently but insistently at the officers’ heels, a few steps in front of Adam.

As the policemen neared the top of the stairs, Adam saw a tall man loom into view. Adam called Angela’s name, to no avail, and was about to call her again when the man moved toward the three officers with alarming suddenness. What the man did next was among the last things Adam was to see with open eyes for over a week.

"Headhunters" by Charlie Cole

2012-01-26T04:30:00.003-08:00

(our hero, Simon Parks, is pursuing his wife, trying to bring her back after she left him)

I downshifted around the corner, but cut theangle sharper than Claire had and made up even more time. She was just upahead. I powered forward and tried to get along side. Suddenly, Claire swerved,cutting me off.

I tried the other side, and she did it again. Ibacked off, giving her some room. She seemed hell-bent on keeping me away. Ifaked left and as the Audi moved that direction, I pulled up on the right side.We were side by side now in the driving rain, and the blowing wind, travelingat high speeds along a two lane road leading through a heavily woodedarea.

Claire looked at me then. Her face was withoutexpression and she raised her hand in a wave. I didn’t understand. And then shelooked straight ahead, closed her eyes and took her hands off the wheel. What…?I looked back at the road and saw the guard rail ahead of us, looming directlyin my lights. The headlight flashed against the guardrail. The turn was sharpand to the right. Neither of us was going to make it.

"The Universal Mirror" by Gwen Perkins

2012-01-26T04:30:00.002-08:00

“There’s a proverb on the docks that goes,” the younger man hesitated. “’Death’s the universal mirror.’ Have you heard it?”

“Something about, oh, how every man sees the reflection of his own life just when he’s facing death?” Asahel nodded in response and Felix replied, “I understand, then—go on.”

“Aye, well,” the younger man continued. “As we—Quent and I—as we’d begun to understand what we were about and the consequences… he looked in the mirror and he thought that healing others was worth dying for. I looked and… I was afraid for my own life. I still am.”

"Rabbit in the Road" by Danika D. Potts and Oliver Campbell

2012-01-26T04:30:00.001-08:00

By the time the cab pulled up alongside me, I had already started to sniffle.

"Get in," Ray said, as he opened the door.

I slid in next to him and cried. It was warm in the cab, but even warmer wrapped up in Ray's arms. I hated him. I needed him. He needed me. The link was stronger this time. I could feel my heartbeat change its rhythm to meet his.

"Don't cry," he said quietly, his chin resting on the top of my head.

"But I hate you," I said. I bathed in the glow of our link.

"Oh, I know."

"The Unauthorized Biography of Michele Bachmann (and other stories)" by Ken Brosky

2012-01-26T04:30:00.000-08:00

I knew this guy,babe, he could do things with his mouth you ain’t never seen. And I ain’ttalking about sex here, all right? All right? Get your head out of the gutterand listen to me, because this is a story that’s gonna blow your mind.

There was a guy named Steve who called himselfNines and a guy named Simon who called himself Case. And they were bothPhreaks—not the kind we used to make fun of back in high school, not thosefreaks. I’m talking about Phreaks, babe:phone hackers. Guys who could work the phone system. They coulddo things that weren’t even supposed to be possible. Getting free calls wasjust the beginning for these guys, babe.

Let me start with Nines, because Nines was thegodfather of them all. Nines didn’t really start the whole idea of phonehacking, I don’t think, because there’s no way to tell who really first startedhacking phones, you know? But Nines was something incredible, and he knew itand he flaunted it. What did he do? I’ll tell you what he did.

He whistled.

"Go No Sen" by Jacques Antoine

2012-01-25T04:31:00.000-08:00

They rode for acouple of hours through the woods, hardly ever coming out from under the canopyof trees. If anyone was looking from above, they would be practicallyinvisible. They stopped a couple of times to rest, and to give George a breakfrom the jostling of the ride. His wound was starting to bother him. He waslosing a lot of blood. Emily began to worry. “Dad, we gotta get you some help,”she pleaded.

“We have tokeep going. There is no help aroundhere,” he said

“How far is thenearest town?”

“Chi-chan, it’sanother thirty minutes to the car.”

“Dad, you can’tmake it that long, can you?”

“I dunno. Ithink you’ll have to take over from here. You up to it?”

“Trust me, Dad.I can do it. Clutch with my hands, shift with my feet, right?”

“Oh, Lord,” hesnorted. Fortunately, Emily turned out to have a better understanding of howmotorcycles work than she let on. There were only a few rough bits at thebeginning. Her father hugged her from behind, and held on for dear life. He wasas happy as he had ever been.

"Fireseed One" by Catherine Stine

2012-01-25T04:30:00.002-08:00

Varik has caught a mysterious masked thief in his father's underwater vault and hauls him to the the surface to interrogate:

We enter my place. My father’smeditation room has one tiny porthole only a water rat could squeeze through.It has dense walls, and a two-way video-page. No precious files in there thatwould be in jeopardy, so it’s the perfect padded cell. The thief suddenlywheels around to land a clumsy punch, but I veer out of harm’s way and push himahead of me through the den into my dad’s think tank. Once inside, I struggleto triple-tie the cable binding his hands in front of him to one of the solidcolumns as he again tries to kick me. I yank off the sludge-dump’s mask.

And gasp.

Long, red hair cascades down.Pearly skin, heart-shaped lips pursed. Fry me in the Hotzone if it’s not a livegirl close to my age. Her sapphire-blue eyes gleam with hate.

I step forward, but not closeenough for her to tackle me. “What were you doing down there?”

Her ensuing hiss sounds likea water snake poised to attack.

I toss her mask on the floor.“I asked you a question.” No answer. “You’ll stay tied up like this for weeksthen.”

She laughs. Kicks the mask Idropped.

"Nightmare at Emerald High" by Joana James

2012-01-25T04:30:00.001-08:00

Malcolm raced toward the end of the hallway; he had to get to that back exit. If he remembered correctly, it was down the hall and to the right. Maybe if he ran fast enough his pursuer wouldn’t realize what direction he’d gone in and he might be able to escape. Tonight the hallway felt longer than he remembered; he felt like he’d never get to the end. He ran endlessly, but the corner seemed to be getting further away. Suddenly, the scene around him changed and he was in a room full of boxes. Amidst the boxes he could see his pursuer near the doorway looking for him and he hid behind a tall stack. Still trying to escape he attempted to move with stealth looking for another hiding place but he was exhausted. He tripped over his own feet and landed hard against the stack and sent the whole thing crashing. His pursuer turned sharply toward the sound and fired two shots in his direction. Malcolm wasted no time and vaulted over the fallen boxes. His pursuer was right behind him.

"Promise Me Eternity" by Ian Fox

2012-01-25T04:30:00.000-08:00

Dr.Simon Patterson is a successful and well-respected neurosurgeon at Central Hospitalin the town of Medford.Married, though without children, he keeps himself so busy that one day is notmuch different from another. Until, that is, he saves the life of the powerfulmobster Carlo Vucci. At a dinner in honor of Dr. Patterson, Carlo Vucciintroduces him to his alluring wife Christine. Simon is entranced by herbeauty. Three weeks later, Christine shows up at the hospital, complaining ofterrible headaches. Dr. Patterson offers to help her, but Christine did notcome to see him just because of her health. A series of shocking events followsthat transforms Simon’s life into a nightmare. Among other things, he findshimself in court being accused of first degree murder…

"The Legend of Sasquatch" by William T. Prince

2012-01-24T04:30:00.003-08:00

Clint’s body count was now up to five--six including the vegetable. Killing was becoming a habit, and Clint realized that it was starting to bother him less each time. He feared that he was becoming desensitized to death, too accustomed to killing.

"Gnome On The Range" by Jennifer Zane

2012-01-24T04:30:00.002-08:00

"I’m going back to the garage salewhere I bought the gnomes.”

“Noway. It might be dangerous.”

“A dangerousgarage sale?”

A muscle in his neck grew taut as he most likelygrinded his teeth. “You have no idea why that vial was in the gnome or whatkind of people we’re dealing with."

"The Baby" a Short Story by Karen A. Wyle

2012-01-24T04:30:00.001-08:00

Ellie has given birth to a clone ofher deceased husband Daniel...

Ellie sat in the rockingchair in the dim light, nursing Daniel. There was no sound but the quiet creakof the chair and the quiet sucking of the baby. She breathed slowly, calmly,almost drowsing.

The baby was fallingasleep. His little mouth loosened and let go of her breast.

"I feel like amother, Daniel. You made me a mother. Isn't that funny?" She rocked andstroked the baby's thin hair, lightly, gently. "You were going to make mea mother, and you couldn't, and now you have."

The baby was snoring, abarely audible sound.

"Did your motherhold you like this, Daniel? What else did she do? What did she do to make yougrow into the man I loved? How can I make you into what you should be, if Idon't know what she did, one day after another, all those days until you weregrown?"

A soft hissing noise came from outside the window. It was starting torain. Ellie sat, listening to the rain and rocking the baby. Finally shebestirred herself, got up and laid Daniel gently in his crib, next to theirdouble bed.

"Gastien Part 2: From Dream to Destiny" by Caddy Rowland

2012-01-24T04:30:00.000-08:00

She drunkenly insisted itwas fine.

“Non, please, I am ready! I like you. Mon Dieu, you are gorgeous. Please! I really want this!”

“Non, I don’t think so! This is not who I am.”

He tried to get up.

She wrapped her legsaround him, pushing against him. “Please! I find you so handsome. I want you tobe the first.”

Drunk, he had no morediscipline to call on. He decided to take her. She, of course, thought it meanta whole lot more than it did. An hour later, he was dressed and pulling on hisboots, hoping she was passed out.

As he opened the door,she called out, “Wait! I don’t even know your name!”

He shut the door andhurried to the carriage and his amis.This was not supposed to happen! He did not want a needy woman clinging to him.As he climbed into the carriage, she stood at the door.

“Wait! What is yourname?” she cried loudly.

His amis looked at him and grimaced.

Gastien turned and lookedat her coldly. “Pardon me?”

“What is your name?” sheasked again.

He simply replied,“Missing.”

She looked puzzled. “Yourname is Missing?”

“Exactly.”

"Twin-Bred" by Karen A. Wyle

2012-01-23T04:30:00.003-08:00

Thehumans on planet Tofarn have ongoing difficulties communicating with and otherwisecomprehending the native Tofa...

“Sir? Sir, we have aproblem.”

The mayor of Varley looked up fromhis monitor. “A problem with whom, or with what?”

His assistant considered whetherto offer an opinion on whether the Tofa were Who or What, and decided againstit. “It’s another complaint from the Tofa, sir. They say thathumans are shaking hands.”

“People are trying to shakehands with Tofa? Which hand, I wonder.”

“No, sir. With each other.The Tofa are upset that humans are shaking hands with each other in public.Quite upset.”

“How can you tell? Oh, Iknow, they vibrate, or smell different, or something. If a job dealing withTofa has done anything for me, it’s made me appreciate faces, proper onesthat tell you what’s behind them. . . .”

"Days of Vengeance" by Tim Kizer

2012-01-23T04:30:00.002-08:00

The note read: “DearFrank, I know you killed your wife, and I can prove it. You are a reasonable person.I’m sure you don’t want to go to prison. All I need is a $20,000 loan. Please thinkabout my request very carefully.”

But before this, thelast six years had been wiped from his memory.

Then there were darknessand dreams...

Owl. Owl. Owl? Thisword flickered at the edge of his mind for a few seconds and then vanished. Franksomehow knew that it was not the word he’d been trying to recall. His very lifedepended upon this important word buried deep inside his memory, and he had tofish it out as soon as possible if he didn’t want the one-legged man and his peopleto cut his throat. He had no idea who the one-legged man was. Sometimes hedoubted this man actually existed.

The word soundedsimilar to ‘owl.’

He would give itanother shot later. Right now, he would like to focus on something else. Thosedreams. Yeah, on those amazingly vivid dreams.

Frank had been having bizarre dreams while hewas in a coma.

"Worldmaker" by A. C. Ellis

2012-01-23T04:30:00.001-08:00

"I guess we're both pretty lucky," Steven said."Even at its worst life is preferable to death."

"Under most circumstances, maybe," Hansen said,"but certainly not under all." Then he smiled a strange, hauntingsmile. "But this doesn't have a thing to do with death.

"What are you talking about? This is the end of thewhole damn world!"

"That's true. But I don't think all those peopledied."

"You're insane."

"Perhaps I am," Hansen said calmly. He smiledagain.

"In the Mouth of the Wolf" by Jamie Fredric

2012-01-19T04:30:00.003-08:00

A violent attack on the American Forces Network facility in Sicily has left innocent people injured or killed...

No sooner had he gotten the words out, when bursts of gunfire sent the team racing for cover, drawing their weapons. But it was nearly impossible to see human shapes in the darkness, almost impossible to tell where the Italian workers were. All the Americans could do was return fire at muzzle flashes.

Adler was familiar with the sound of Uzis and automatic weapons. Their .45s wouldn’t be much of a match.

“Get back! Get back!” he shouted to his men, all of them scooting backward, trying to get behind some protection.

All Adler could hope for was that the darkness would give them the added cover they so desperately needed now. His thoughts went to Moshenko, not knowing where he and the two Russians were, hoping they made it to safety.

Outside they heard shouting and gunfire, total pandemonium. The workers were completely defenseless. They were running, trying to hide, but the attackers were coming at them relentlessly.

All the ammunition, rifles, and mortars EOD recovered from the tunnel weren’t going to do them any good now. Adler scooted closer to one of the Jeeps, reached behind the driver’s seat, and pulled out an ammo box with extra clips for the .45s. “Taylor! Behind that seat! Get the extra ammo!”

"World of the Chernyi: Pedro Six Two" by D. K. Richardson

2012-01-19T04:30:00.002-08:00

Two characters, Samantha and Robbie are talking in the aftermathof an attack on a remote farm...

She sat in the back seat; he sat on the floor, legs hanging out the door. After several minutes, she said, "It's finally started, hadn't it?"

"Depends on how you look at it, Sam. I think it started a long time ago, only now the senseless violence isn't just in Africa or the barrio or the ghetto - now it's in everyone's face. I've seen this coming for a long time. I have to guess, so did your folks. That's why they moved out here - yes?"

The reply was soft, "Yes, someone broke into our house while we were out shopping. Within the year, Dad had sold the house, found the one out here, resigned his position and we moved here. I had to give up all my friends; I was just starting high school..."

Robbie shifted, pulling his legs inside, crossing them, he faced her directly.

"And it was hard, almost impossible; to make friends, no matter what you did or how hard you tried. Always the outsider, even after - what - living here for four years?"

"Yes," this almost a sob.

"So, did he rape you or just lie to you?"

"Quiet Americans" by Erika Dreifus

2012-01-19T04:30:00.001-08:00

You will go to Germany. You will go, after years and years of refusing to go (even when you traveled through the rest of Europe after your freshman year of college), just as you refused to learn German until circumstances (that is to say, graduate school requirements) forced you to. But if your grandparents, may they rest in peace, managed to go back and visit, way back in 1972, then you can go. You will be practically next door in beautiful baroque Central Europe for a conference; you really should go while someone else has paid your transatlantic airfare. So you will.

You are an American. You are a grown-up. What’s to worry about? Even now, even this summer of 2004, when your own homeland needs security, and every time you watch the news you’re afraid you’ll hear about another suicide bombing on a bus in Israel.

You talk with your best friend before you leave. You say: “I don’t know which is worse, at this point. To be an American in Europe—or to be a Jew.

Your best friend is also an American Jew. She also has European-born grandparents. Hers survived a total of seven camps. Your best friend doesn’t have an answer.

"Lisa's Way" by Robert Collins

2012-01-19T04:30:00.000-08:00

Lisa stared at the trio of armed young men standing in the middle of the road. They wore ragged clothes; their weapons were scuffed by age. She could hear movement in the woods on either side of the road. These three had allies under cover.

How many she didn’t dare to guess. She had fourteen on her side, not counting Wayne’s and Dave’s young children. If they were willing to confront her group they would need at least ten, including those three. She had two people with bows in front of each wagon. The eight riders had hand weapons.

They could take on these outlaws, no question. The three in front of her looked pretty lean. Maybe they’ve faced warriors before, but more than likely they haven’t. While her opponents might be hungry and outmatched, they did have combatants under cover. Her side would probably win, but not without losses.

Lisa remembered Coe’s warning about outlaws and robbers. That meant that killing them could make her a powerful enemy, or it could silence a source of information she’d need. It made fighting them awfully risky. That left her to choose between turning around and trying to talk to them.

I’ll talk. They won’t be expecting that. Maybe that gives me an advantage.

"Raven" by Nuayma Jeggels

2012-01-18T04:30:00.003-08:00

After they had vanished so abruptly, theyreturned many years later with a reign of violence; of Fire, Wind, Earth, Waterand Lightning...

Her eyes wereclosed, but her cracked lips slowly parted, her fingers twitched, and sounds vibratedfrom her chest to her throat. Dried and encrusted blood covered her torn fleshand rags barely hid her body from their eyes. They would have described hisobservation as being-too-hopeful, butit took a mere moment to hear what the man had heard.

“H ...”

They leanedforward.

“Help.”

One jumpedback, wide-eyed. The other wiped a hand across his face, but the man who hadfound the woman looked around and shouted, “Whohas the herbs, the bandages?”

While the restexchanged looks and rushed off to join the group around the woman, two menturned to their bags and pulled out every length of cloth and jar of medicinethey could find. They joined the group, which had quickly increased in number,and handed over the supplies. The woman’s body had been covered by someone’srobe, but she still didn’t move or open her eyes to acknowledge them.

“She wasdead,” someone said. “I saw her, she was dead.”

“Water!” theyoung man demanded before turning to his friend. “Well, she was dead, but nowshe’s breathing and she needs our help.”

"The Final Chamber" by Cynthia Mercer Tottleben

2012-01-18T04:30:00.002-08:00

The adopted mother of Jessie watches as her daughter, in the throes of a psychological breakdown, is loaded into the ambulance...

“Mommy?” You asked, looking to me for clarification. Speaking to me in your most childish voice. Horror haunting every letter that passed your lips. Seeking comfort from your first mother, the one I could never be, the one you loved unconditionally even though she lounged around, high on whatever drug she could find, and collected cash from the men who touched you.

That same woman who had forgotten about you, barricaded behind the basement door for weeks on end. Letting you waste away your hours in utter darkness. Begging for food. Pleading with the men who came downstairs not to be hurt. To be given water. Bread. Anything.

Lingering with the corpses long after your sisters had died.

"Empire: How to Succeed with Nothing but Passion, Great Ideas and a Wealthy Family" by Brendan Jack

2012-01-18T04:30:00.001-08:00

An atomic bomb seemed to go off in my father’s head, though his face was expressionless. He accused me of collecting after the Crab-ren (crab siren) had sounded.

I had spent a few extra seconds securing my final catch after the horn, but it was already netted – and it still put me ahead of his haul by one tasty meal. Another silent head explosion was followed by his unbucketing of crabs onto our kitchen floor, sending them scuttling towards the sliding doors. “Count them again!” he bellowed like the commander of a warship, before realizing that he’d destroyed any chance of an accurate recount.

Mother attempted to soothe him, but he paced across the sundeck and down to the beach. At the sea’s edge he began dunking his head under the water to muffle the screaming. The rise and fall of the waves made it difficult to hide the angry carbon dioxide bursting from his lungs. I’m no psychologist, but this was probably less about crabs, and more about Grandpa Bertrand dying and leaving him the responsibility of the family empire.

Grampy’s death really ruined our holiday.

"Thrift Store Bounty Hunters" by Michael Lamendola

2012-01-18T04:30:00.000-08:00

My heart is beating cracks through my ribcage as I sink intothe lightly stained velour backseat of the LTD. The pair of guns tucked into mypants make for an uncomfortable ride, so I toss them on the floorboard. Leaningback again, I reach over and roll the window down. In front Peter sits quietlyas Sal drives with one hand on the wheel and one arm leaning out the window.

With eyes closed, I decide to be the one to point out theunconscious elephant piled in the trunk. “What are we going to do with him? Heain't dead you know.”

“I figured,” Sal says. “What did you do to him?”

“Beat him over the head with one of those big golden trashcan things, kicked him a few times, and smacked him upside the head with hisgun.”

“Turn about's fair play.”

“That's exactly what I said.”

“When did he throw up on himself?” Peter asks.

“Oh,” I say, slightly embarrassed. “That was me.”

Peter is silent for a moment. “Really?”

“Considering I don't usually run a half marathon after afull marathon of drinking, I'd say my body reacted in a perfectly natural way.

"A Physician's Plight: A Memoir" by Katherine Klein, M.D.

2012-01-17T04:30:00.003-08:00

Tension mounted as the marriage collapsed. My life revolved around denying he did nothing while I took care of our children and the responsibility of patients and residency. He wouldn’t leave his cushy situation and I was as scared of leaving him as I was of staying. He left for his evening sports game and I executed my plan:

I grabbed toys that were nearby and looked at the door, expecting it to burst open. I’d almost forgotten the boy’s stuffed animals, so I made another run upstairs so they wouldn’t be without them that first night. The toe of my shoe caught the top step, and I tumbled onto the oak floor.

Back in the family room, I stopped to gulp for air. “Cody, Darren, let’s get your jackets, we’re going for a ride.”

I drove the several miles of curves at dusk, watching leaves flutter off trees like fairies on the wind. My temples throbbed. I looked at the boy’s unconcerned faces and my nervousness eased. Until then, I had not told anyone about my plans.

We pulled into the apartment parking lot to ample spaces. I turned off the ignition. I had made it, away from my husband. I got out with the boys and stepped away from the car. The relief I felt to leave him felt as if I had grown an eight-foot wingspan and a thermal updraft soared my spirit over a crisp Alaskan glacier. Spinning around, I gleefully waved my arms and broke the silence.

“I’m free. I’m free,” I shouted. “Freeeee.”

"Shadow Path" by P.L. Blair

2012-01-17T04:30:00.002-08:00

Tevis placed a hand on the left temple of the corpse. "Most of the brain has been destroyed by the blast." He sounded distant, talking to himself, thinking out loud rather than answering the Wizard's question. "I feel … cold. Freezing. Like wind sweeping off a great field of ice. It has dissipated very little, even after all this time. You are very strong, Coira.” His voice dropped to little more than a barely heard murmur. “You are hiding something from us — trying to hide something."

His voice dropped even lower, whispering words Kat couldn't understand – didn't think she would've understood them even if she could've heard them clearly. He closed his eyes. Sweat beaded on his forehead, rolled down to drip from his chin. Kat had never seen Tevis sweat before — never seen him look so pale. "Tevis ..." She reached toward him.

Arvandus caught her hand. "He casts a spell," the Wizard said. "It would be dangerous to disturb him now — dangerous for you as well as him."

"Curbchek" by Zach Fortier

2012-01-17T04:30:00.001-08:00

The door of the mobile home had been kicked in, so I called for backup and went in, clearing room-by-room, my gun out searching. I checked the entire trailer - which smelled like a damn litter box - and in the only bedroom I found an unmade bed covered in blood. There was no one in the house. I called for techs to process the scene and put out an attempt-to-locate on the woman’s car; it was gone - and she with it.

I was pissed off. I drove around the immediate area, looking for her car; then, call it intuition or whatever, I decided to park back up on a hill and blacked out (turned out my headlights). I just sat, waiting. I know this sounds weird, but I knew something was going to happen. Call it luck or gut instinct - whatever you want to feel comfortable - but I knew I had to park and wait...something was coming.

Fifteen minutes later, here comes her car down the dugway.

"Trouble Aboard the Hawaiian Paradise" by Lisa Hall Deckert

2012-01-17T04:30:00.000-08:00

It was nearly midnight when I left the club to head off to bed. I went outside on the deck, and walked over to look at the ocean. The full moon was illuminating the little white caps on the waves as we cut through the water. A gust of wind grabbed at my wrap, and I caught it just in time before it was gone overboard. I wrapped it tighter and walked to the top of the outside stairs to go down to the deck below. When I reached the top of the stairs, though, I was surprised to see a familiar figure walking away on the lower deck. The moon illuminated the silver flattop of the man from the airport.

He was carrying a briefcase. There was something strange about a man wearing an Aloha shirt on a cruise carrying a briefcase at midnight. Instead of going down the stairs, I decided to skirt around so that I could look over the railing and see him, but he would be unlikely to see me unless he looked straight up. I took off my shoes and carried them in my hand so he wouldn’t hear my heels clicking.

"Divine Blood: Semester Start" by Luke Green

2012-01-16T04:30:00.003-08:00

Naiki Semezou was just warned by Hel Logesdottir not to bring down the class average...

“Don’t worry too much about her,” he said. “Every week the school puts out the class averages and she’s been comparing us to other classes in our year. Class 3E is consistently scoring better than our class and every once in a while, so does Class 3B.”

“Oh … a competition, got it,” Naiki said. “Yeah, okay, I’ll keep out of her way so she can get all her high grades and stuff and just do my thing.”

“Well, it’s class averages she worries about,” Issa said.

“Okay, so what’s that got to do with me?” the green-haired girl asked.

“You’re part of the class.”

“But I’m not part of the average class, so we’re fine,” Naiki said with a shrug before turning back to her text books. “Next class was history right?”

“That was last class,” Issa said.

Naiki glanced back over her shoulder at the sound of a thump and wondered briefly why Hel was repeatedly letting her head fall against the desk she was sitting at, but shrugged it off and turned back to trying to get out the right book for the next class as the teacher walked in through the door.

"Last Rites" by Ethan Cobb

2012-01-16T04:30:00.002-08:00

Weldon, a young priest, prepares to accompany a vampire killer on a hunting expedition:

Weldon sat in the snow contemplating whether the undead should receive last rites. The seminary lacked the answer. He would have to think more on the subject when he had more time, possible after Father Rupert’s Tuesday flower arranging class. Until then, he had other matters to worry about. He rubbed the cross absentmindedly and tossed another garlic clove into his mouth.

Through a scream of wind, Weldon heard the slow crunch of plodding feet. A man materialized through the clouds at the end of the street. A bent and gnarled walking stick plunged into the snow-covered walkway. An equally twisted and bowed man gripped the old stick. Only the spiked wood plunged through to the muddy base seemed to keep the man from blowing away. His hat brim held fast like it had been nailed to his head like a horseshoe.

“You him then?” asked the old man.

“I’m Weldon Boniface III,” Weldon said.

“Father?”

“Almost-Father.”

“Almost-Father?”

“Well it’s not official yet, but I have taken oaths. A little more time and I will be sent to watch over a town of my own.”

“Looks like almost-too-young-to-be–out-without-your-parents’-permission might be a better title,” said the old man.

"The Blasphemer" by John Ling

2012-01-16T04:30:00.001-08:00

Samir had decided that tonight would be the night. As he sat in his car with the engine off, he stared at the house across the street. The rain had eased to a trickle, and he could see movement past the windows. The man of the house was helping his wife set the table for dinner. Curtains billowed, hiding the man’s face. But Samir knew it had to be him. The apostate. The blasphemer.

Samir exhaled, feeling so many things at once. Joy and hate. Faith and doubt. Excitement and fear. Which was which? He could no longer tell. Pain started to bloom in his temples, and he could feel it reaching into his eyeballs, stabbing him in sync with his heartbeat. That damn headache was back.

He clenched his jaw, trying to tough it out. He didn’t want to medicate himself. Didn’t want to risk dulling his senses, blunting his edge. But in the end, the migraine proved too crushing, too searing, and he relented. A bit of pain was good for the spirit, yes, but too much would be a hindrance.

"The Bluebird House" by Rae Ellen Lee

2012-01-16T04:30:00.000-08:00

I open my eyes to a gray wool hat and a face so near I see individual wiry hairs in his brushy, walrus mustache. I close my eyes and groan. My teeth rattle against each other. “Moose . . . help.”

“Hold on. I never found a half-dead person before. Gotta get you into the truck.”

Curled in the fetal position on the seat of an old pickup truck, I am wrapped in a dirty blue blanket smelling of stale beer. The pain, like knives, stabs at me, over and over and over. My head rests against the man’s thigh that smells of oil and sawdust. My feet bump against the door handle. During the few moments I am conscious, the truck rattles and shakes and hammers the bumpy, icy road. I doze and, moaning, wake up to the engine roaring in my ears. Soon, white snowy silence. Then I hear a growling rumble as the man shifts down, and the jarring clatter of loose tools and beer cans on the floor. Am I worse off now than when I lay in the woods?

"Sarah Of The Moon" by Randy Mixter

2012-01-12T04:30:00.003-08:00

Alex in Wonderland:

The Haight-Ashbury district of San Francisco in 1967. Alex Conley, a part-time writer for a Baltimore newspaper, is dispatched to chronicle the events occurring there. It is June of 1967, and the summer of love is in full swing.

Alone, in this strange and magical place, he meets a girl named Sarah, a free spirit who is as mysterious as she is beautiful.

What are the secrets of her past? Why does she dance each night under the light of the moon? These are just a few of the puzzles Alex needs to solve in the short time he has in that city.

Then there’s another complication. He is beginning to fall deeply in love with her.

"The Goddess Queen: The Rys Chronicles Book II" by Tracy Falbe

2012-01-12T04:30:00.002-08:00

Incapacited by magical weapons, Shan taunts the Kezanada Overlord sent to kill him...

Despite his injury, Shan would not yield to the killing blow like a paralyzed rabbit. Growling out his pain, Shan struggled to his feet. He could not hope to flee in his condition but he would face the Overlord bravely.

“Onja’s footboy to the end,” Shan sneered.

The Overlord gnashed his teeth behind his mask as the insult grated his ego, but Shan’s parting jibe fueled his anger and would add to the pleasure of killing. Holding the magic sword that Onja had so conveniently given him, the Overlord promised himself he would never let it go. He would bring Shan’s head to Onja and then strike her down too, making the Kezanada the supreme force in all the world.

“The end of all rys starts now!” the Overlord bellowed triumphantly, bringing back his sword for a decapitating blow.

Shan clung to his dignity and faced his executioner’s blow. His mind was surprisingly clear and free of regrets. He knew the next world waited, as it always did.

"The Bluebird House" by Rae Ellen Lee

2012-01-12T04:30:00.001-08:00

I open my eyes to a gray wool hat and a face so near I see individual wiry hairs in his brushy, walrus mustache. I close my eyes and groan. My teeth rattle against each other. “Moose . . . help.”

“Hold on. I never found a half-dead person before. Gotta get you into the truck.”

"Stone Bearers: The Gift" by R. E. Washington

2012-01-12T04:30:00.000-08:00

My name is Constance and this story starts the day I was ripped apart...

I pointed to the exit. "We have to go there."

She nodded and then we both were running. Glass crunched under my feet and behind me I could hear a shriek. The light was glowing bright, almost encompassing the entire greenhouse. We were almost at the exit. Danielle was a little ahead of me, when she froze. "No. No!"

That's when I saw it. The black glutinous body that looked like hot bubbling tar and white, white teeth. For a second, I could only stare as my mind denied what was in front of me. The monster didn't have such a problem. It leapt at Danielle. Instantly, I reacted. I shoved her out of the way and slashed with the glass shard I grabbed earlier.

The monster jumped back and bared its teeth. I watched it. Its fingers twitched, its claws glinting in the light. I only had a second to decide. I pushed Danielle.

"Run!"

"Sweet Farm of Mine" by Candace A. Hennekens

2012-01-11T04:30:00.003-08:00

I put the roast in, with two or three bay leaves, onions, potatoes scrubbed and quartered, probably red ones while they last, Kennebec when the reds have run out, carrots cleaned with a brush and quartered and shortened to lay between the cracks, maybe a little celery overall, seasoning of salt and pepper, a few garlic cloves nestled in the tiny spaces between the roast and the vegetables, and the meal slowly cooks while we are outside working up a hunger. Later I’ll add to the oven dinner, maybe an apple crisp, or baked apples topped with a dab of sweet butter, a generous pinch of brown sugar, maybe some raisins. When we walk indoors after hard work out in the open air, the smells are those of a rich, layered, mouth-watering mixture of meat, vegetables, and fruit, a meal that no fine restaurant can come close to matching when hunger is sharp and present. Hunger, real hunger, makes any meal a gourmet meal.

"Mrs. and Mr. Hill" by Elaine Jones

2012-01-11T04:30:00.002-08:00

This is an account about something I observed in my neighborhood during the1950s when I was a teenager; I have not been able to get the memory out of my mind for over sixty years. I have always been convinced that I witnessed a crime, a murder committed, although no-one was ever accused or convicted of one; in fact, it may have been more than one.

After years of analyzing the events, I believe there were two reasons for the lack of a police investigation even though I, a child, knew something was not right. I’ll share my theory. I think the time and place were contributing factors… See what you think…

First, the incident occurred in the middle of an African-American neighborhood in a large inner-city community during a time, the 1950s, when investigating Black on Black crime was not on the top of the police blotter – especially if it wasn’t obvious that a crime had been committed.

"Wizard's Refrain" by R.L. Austin

2012-01-11T04:30:00.001-08:00

Dirah is trying to escape a failed attack against the dark army...

Dirah stumbled out of the thorny brambles, scratched and bleeding, to find a group of dark-robed figures blocking her path. Instead of pulling back, she slammed the heel of Baldric’s staff on the ground and growled a spell with the sound of a curse.

Every wizard facing her lurched as the ground between them buckled. From a large crack burst molten rock that boiled and coagulated into a vaguely animal-like form. Even Dirah took a step back when the fiery orange figure reared onto two stump-like legs, and the faint image of a misshapen face appeared on its bulbous head. This was no fireball, but a monstrous apparition that lumbered forward, spewing hot sulfuric gas as if it had breath.

"Drawn Breath (Part I - Wrought Iron)" by Yusufu Shehu

2012-01-11T04:30:00.000-08:00

Then all of a sudden six glowing green orbs shot up from the corpses and rose slowly into the sky. They reached right up past Desem’s view point on Wresheina Tower into the faintly cloudy sky. The orbs then exploded silently, drenching the entire fiefdom in a deep, toxic green. It was like a dye, staining every aspect of Schtarelruhn. The flares hissed out, as civilians in their thousands exclaimed and cried. Estrall heard them all. His hair, eyes, skin and clothes stained a caustic green. It signified a breach, an injection of a new power that would soak every possible part of Schtarelruhn, encroach it and then eradicate it. As Estrall turned his head about his fiefdom, his eyes cutting through the miasma, he now knew truly who had come. The solemn yet intensely violent message was sent. The defiance and audacity in this act - their own Sha’n!: the use of magna-flares, the symmetry; the sadistic ceremony. It reeked of them. He looked up at the sky now a complete hostile green: another world; a hell...

"Dead Heroes" by Kae Cheatham

2012-01-10T04:30:00.003-08:00

“What?” She frowned. “Sage Gamion was possibly going to tell about a—a war, or are you referring to the second century before the government was formed?”

“No, not pirate tales.” He stopped before her. “Your elders probably call it the conflict or deception. We went to the inner sector and fought the…the Yivenese.”

The mysterious word conjured vague thoughts about creatures of the inner sector. Unenlightened, they were called.

“I’ve been trying to learn more, but my sponsor, won’t acknowledge my questions. I know he could have been involved. Anyone over ninety surely remembers it. But all information is stored in the Hall of Memories. I can’t access that because I’m not a student any more.” He was pacing again.

“Why would you want to know about that anyway?”

“Why not? Doesn’t the concept intrigue you?”

Sinoa’s curiosity had been nudged, but she told Nathan, “We’ll learn about it when we get to the proper level of academics.”

"The Harbor" by Al Lamanda

2012-01-10T04:30:00.002-08:00

The sheriff of Harbor Island encounters the recorded voice of the anti-Christ for the first time...

The phonograph rose up from its stand and hovered in front of Stuttgart. The record levitated up from the turntable and the phonograph fell to the floor with a crash.

The record continued to spin in the air in front of Stuttgart.

The demon reached out to touch the record with a hideous finger and the very room itself seemed to implode.

Blaine opened his eyes. He felt cold, almost frigid. He could see his breath.

The office was covered in a layer of frost. He stood up and went to the window. It was a beautiful, late summer day, seventy-seven degrees with bright sunshine and a thin layer of ice coated everything in the office.

Blaine switched the heat on and set the thermostat to eighty degrees. He poured a mug of cold coffee and placed it in the small microwave beside the coffeemaker for twenty seconds.

The office thawed. He could no longer see his breath. He went to the thermostat and turned the heat off. He sat on Blackwell’s desk and lit a cigarette. That is when he looked at the phonograph and noticed that the needle wasn’t on the record, but resting in its cradle.

"Wildflowers Come Back" by Sarah Spann

2012-01-10T04:30:00.001-08:00

As she forced open her eyes she saw the man pulling on a white t-shirt before he grabbed a set of keys off the nightstand and walked out. The sound and vibration from the door slamming reverberated through the room causing her head to ache even deeper. A knot formed instantly in her stomach when the deadbolt clicked loudly into place. He was locking her in; he was leaving her here. She needed to get out.

Her head felt too heavy to lift, and an unbearable pain shot down her neck when she tried. Closing her eyes she wheezed, trying to grasp the breath the pain had stolen from her. Another attempt to swallow felt like fire dripping down her tongue, and the tears that began to stream down her cheeks brought with them a biting kiss.

Lyss’ body convulsed under the pain as she turned her head to the right and once again forced open her eyes. Double mirrored closet doors stretched across the length of the opposite wall. Through her cloudy vision she could see the reflection of her body as it lay limply on the bare, firm mattress. Everything seemed so red.

"Gastien Part 2: From Dream to Destiny" by Caddy Rowland

2012-01-10T04:30:00.000-08:00

Phillipe smiled at the girl.

“Did you say your name was Sophie?” he asked gently.

She looked at him in surprise. She did not expect him to be kind after being forced to apologize.

“Oui, I am Sophie,” she said quietly.

“Well, Sophie, don’t look so disappointed. He comes here all of the time. You will see him again soon enough.”

Sophie’s face flamed red.“I don’t know what you are talking about! I am disappointed that I am failing as a server that is all.”

Phillipe chuckled. “Ah, Sophie! It is almost as obvious on you as it was on him.”

She jerked her face back to his in surprise.

Then she said, “If you are talking about that man, that Gastien, I want to tell you that you are mistaken. I am not his type, I am sure.”

“Is he your type?”Phillipe questioned.

Her face turned even redder, and she turned to walk away. Phillipe put his hand on her tray.

“Sophie, I am just saying, I know Gastien quite well. He is interested, or he would not have stood up for you. Be careful, though. He is no novice in regard to women.

"Tech-World Explorer" by Jason Moore

2012-01-09T04:30:00.003-08:00

"In the real world, the white robed scientists walked into a giant room with software engineers who are working on something very big and top secret as they watched all that was unfolding. They were teaching the computer to learn and adapt as events unfolded inside the Simulator. They were also working on a new programming language that meshed ordinary words with computer routines to create things on the fly.

This computer language would allow real-time processing of ordinary language into an on demand programming tool and resource used by the person speaking out loud. This was still highly experimental. On another monitor connected to a mainframe, both scientists and computer engineers watched as the machine learned on its own and generated complex code and algorithms as events unfolded in world."

"Silver Smoke" by Monica Leonelle

2012-01-09T04:30:00.002-08:00

Brie heard Pilot calling after her in the distance, most likely swearing at her. But she kept running.

It wasn't like it was Brie’s fault that they'd stolen the car. If Pilot hadn’t run his Camry’s gas tank dry, they could have been on time for school without having to jack their father’s most prized possession. Not that Brie really cared—after everything their father James had done to them, the least he could do was loan them his Aston Martin every once in awhile.

It wasn't Brie's fault that they'd crashed into a palm tree either. Sure, she'd screamed, and grabbed Pilot's shoulders from the backseat. She'd even shaken him as hard as she could to get him to hit the brakes. But the paparazzi had run him off the road in the first place.

Lastly—not that she wasn’t going to get blamed for all this anyway—it wasn’t Brie’s fault that she’d jumped out of the car just a few seconds after it crashed. She had to get answers. And in this case, she had to chase them...

"Among the Little Fishes" by Ethan Cobb

2012-01-09T04:30:00.001-08:00

Easton, a hero looking to become a “Super” Hero enters the classroom of Dr. Winters, suspected Villain “Dr. Disaster”:

Easton knew Dr. Disaster was the only first-rate villain any second-string hero could get to. These days there were too many “Super” Heroes and not enough “Evil” Villains. Where was another sadistic clown or bald maniacal real-estate agent when you needed them? Only last week two heroes sped to the same bank heist, arriving at the same time. The news cameras picked up the action as the two heroes battered each other for the chance to arrest the robbers, while the criminals tiptoed out the back door and escaped.

“Will everyone please take your seats and shut up,” said Dr. Winters. Easton sighed. Dr. Disaster was not considered a true “Evil” Villain and there were plenty of reasons why. He lacked subtlety, poise, and clever monologues.

The classroom dropped silent under the fiery gaze of the professor. His bulbous nose and tight jaw molded nicely with the sharp eyebrows narrowed into a V. His head pulsed red like a teapot left in a furnace all night. Anyone that ferocious looking while teaching High School Chemistry had to be a villain.

"The Great Firewall" by Michael C. Boxall

2012-01-09T04:30:00.000-08:00

A ruthless property developer is trying to drive the last resisting residents out of their home...

As Daniel arrived at the end of the lane the door swung open, then half-closed again, flames licking along its edge. He saw a figure in the doorway, silhouetted against the conflagration. Fugen Pan’s hair was on fire and he was beating at his head with his hands. There was a crash and a blazing beam fell behind him. Pushing it away with his elbow, he stumbled back inside.

Figures raced across the floor of the crater, carrying a ladder between them like a stretcher.

Pan reappeared, half-dragging, half-carrying a large bundle wrapped in cloth. The lower part was in flames and he flailed at them with one hand.

The rescuers reached the column and upended the ladder. One of them was already scrambling up. As he got to the top a hand reached from the bundle and tried to touch Pan’s face. Pan leaned forward. Then the roof fell in, burying the teacher and his mother in an avalanche of tiles and blazing timber.

The fire sent a shower of sparks up into the night sky and roared in triumph.

"Vampiris Sancti: The Demon Prince" by Katri Cardew

2012-01-05T04:30:00.003-08:00

The Martyc watched the wary eyes of the room, his presence meant either sanction or investigation and where there was a demon then paranoia was never too far behind. Their universe was one of constant struggle to survive, betrayal rather than loyalty, acquisition rather than trade was the norm. The human realm had thrown everyone for a loop, for this was no backward realm. These beings not only knew how, but also loved to fight and would happily raze their world to dust than tolerate invasion. Vampires were the demon face of the human world, and Martycs the power behind the curtain ensuring all demons respected the Veil—the illusion humans had of their realm. Though Vryn tended to keep a low profile on this world he made certain all demons respected the wishes of Empire, or reap the brutal consequence of insolence.

"Here Comes Trouble" by Erin Kern

2012-01-05T04:30:00.002-08:00

“Nothing’s wrong,” she replied.

“You really can’t lie worth a damn, can you?” he countered as he took a step toward her.

She didn’t bother backing up. “I can lie a lot better than you think.”

He lifted his brows, and took another step until he was a whisper away from her. Lacy stood her ground and for once didn’t have some smart ass comment. Chase prided himself on being excellent at reading people. Lacy always pretended indifference around him, but her eyes gave her away. All he had to do was look into their depths to see through her.

“Really?” He bent over and whispered in her ear. “Because your attention is focused on things it probably shouldn’t be.”

Her jaw just about hit the floor as he brushed past her. Point one for Chase.

"The Tourist Trail" by John Yunker

2012-01-05T04:30:00.001-08:00

In darkness, Angela ascended the winding gravel road. She carried a flashlight, but she kept it off. She knew the path well.

The Clouds of Magellan illuminated the white bellies of penguins crossing up ahead. Most stood at the side of the road and watched her pass, their heads waving from side to side. When one brayed, the high-pitched hee-hawing of a donkey, the others responded in kind, forming a gantlet of noise. It was mating season at Punta Verde, and the males were rowdy.

"Death By A Dark Horse" by Susan Schreyer

2012-01-05T04:30:00.000-08:00

Thea Campbell's horse has been stolen and although she has found him she's also found something else more sinister...

"Are you okay, buddy? We're going home. I won't let anyone drive off with you again. I'm so sorry." I kissed his nose once more, and gave him a cursory nose-to-toes examination, checking for any obvious signs of injury. He looked okay. I stroked his neck.

"Come on, Blackie. Gate. Let's go home." He heaved a sigh and moved off in the direction of the barn.

I grabbed a halter and lead rope out of the truck, and dialed 9-1-1. As I walked I explained the situation to the operator and gave her Valerie's address.

"Has the horse been injured or abused in any way?" she asked.

"Not that I can tell right now, but I haven't had a chance to thoroughly check him." I reached the gate, my attention divided between managing the latch and the phone call. "I'm—" I stopped. Something was wrong. Where was Blackie?

The wind shifted, blowing my hair across my eyes. With my hands otherwise occupied, I turned my face into the breeze to clear my vision and inhaled stench so dense it had weight.

A thousand spiders crawled up my spine.

"Ariel" by Gabriel Madison

2012-01-04T04:30:00.003-08:00

One line intro: Angel Santos has just asked the two Archangels in her room, why they are in her room…

Gabriel motioned for me to sit back down. I sat as he moved his long dark hair behind his ears. “We all watched as the
a
ngel Lailah entered the Holy Palace. All of the spirit realms were filled with songs of joy and love. I don’t remember a time before that Heaven itself had been filled with so many angels. They came from all over, Nirvana, Shangri-La, Valhalla and many of the other free spirit realms. Everyone stood in awe as Lailah walked into the Holy Palace. And then…the Palace crumbled into a pile of dust.”

My stomach dropped, my mouth became dry and I balled my hands into fist to keep them from trembling. This couldn’t be happening. Not after everything I’d been through, everything I’d done, everything I wanted to forget. It took all the strength I had, but I took in a deep breath of air while slowly calming myself. “What do you mean crumbled to a pile of dust?”

“He means the Holy Palace is no more.” Michael chimed in. “We searched through the rubble and found the dead body of Lailah. We found no signs of God. It seems he no longer resides in the spirit realms.”

"Devil's Creek" by Paul Maitrejean

2012-01-04T04:30:00.002-08:00

Erika, staying at the Devil's Creek Cafe, has seen a hooded figure approach the building -- just before the power went out and Marlys, the cafe owner, screamed.

Lightning cut the blackness, white knives stabbing through the windows. At the end of the hallway, the stairway gaped like a black mouth. Erika felt her way toward it, one hand on the wall. At the head of the stairs, she shone her light down. The steps descended to a landing, then turned right to the first floor.

“Marlys?”

Thunder covered her voice, crashing overhead.

Erika started down. The creaking of the steps blended with the rain and wind beating against the building. With each step, Erika’s pulse beat harder. While the storm’s noise covered her own approach, it also camouflaged any sounds an intruder might create below. Did someone wait for her at the stairs’ foot? She didn’t dare imagine it. Right now, Marlys needed her.

At the landing, Erika bent down to see into the café. In the nearly constant flicker and blaze of lightning, the room appeared deserted.

“Marlys?”

A tall hooded figure stepped before the foot of the stairs, not ten feet away, a black silhouette against the lightning.