• “Whatever you do,” advised Mr. Culotte, a faint whisper underneath the thunder of the music. The bass threatened to level the building. “Don’t take or drink anything they offer.”

    “Why not?” asked Keira.

    “Because,” Mr. Culotte looked around. His face was green in the neon light. It didn’t hide the fear. “Everything here is spiked, I’m sure,…[Read more]

  • The drink was spiked; she knew this. She laughed and drank it anyway. The music of the club and the ecstasy filled her as if she were a sieve. The others, like marionettes, whirled and danced to the rhythm of the beat.

  • The prince was a tall and aristocratic looking young man, blessed with beauty and sharp wit. However, like most of his bloodline, he was cursed with melancholy and was prone to black moods that alienated him from those around him, be they compatriots, advisers or the closest of friends. He was a difficult sort to get along with and lord father was…[Read more]

  • All the writer really needs, it is said, concentration, inspiration and big cup of tea. So why couldn’t he write? No worlds unfurled from the ink of his pen. No princesses needed rescuing, nor were there courteous or manipulative princes or kings. It would’ve been funny if his livelihood hadn’t depended on it. His mind was empty.

  • He wanted to be her boyfriend so bad, just like that song by The Ramones. He liked her, sure. He liked her a hell of a lot. But he was nothing and so was she.

  • He made a career out of being an eligible bachelor. A lifetime, really. No, wait, it was a lifestyle choice. He never got with anyone. He never lost his virginity, even though he was well into his twenties. It would go on thirty, or forty. He didn’t mind it at all. He did mind the questions, the puzzled looks, the so called “envy” that people had…[Read more]

  • “We have pressing matters to discuss,” she said.
    And so she spoke. On and on, unending. Her words sluiced out of his head just as they came in. He cared little for it it all, especially her. Everything felt so trivial, so miniscule, so…. pointless.
    “…. pressing matters,” she said again.
    He wished she would shut up.

  • Thump! Thump! Thump! Elizabeth was woken by the sound. It was a pounding, like a clock in rhythm, battering against the old wooden planks of the house. Then there came a particularly bodily thud and a wail. The sound made her blood chill. It was the man who rented the room upstairs, screaming in the night.

  • After all of his children moved away, Ray rented the old cabin every summer to whomever was interested. Usually it was elderly people looking to get away or young kids looking for privacy.