short-story
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We left the building late into the afternoon. Maria Mater sighed heavily with disgust. “I hate dealing with the heads,” she grumbled as she led Cortex and me to a shaded spot in the courtyard garden.
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It was still dark out when Fane roused from a dead sleep. He stretched and blinked. He had woken up two minutes before his morning alarm. He had slept. He had really and truly slept solidly for once since before Melody had died. No nightmares, no creatures, no interruptions. He glanced at the slowly lightening…
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Fane walked briskly through the hallways. “Do you want to go outside?” Ishan offered, wondering if closing themselves into their bedroom would be the best idea for the man. Fane paused to look up at the platinum-blond man. He was lost and cold. He pulled Ishan to him and buried his head in the blond’s…
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What happens when a golden retriever energy Clause sets his sights on a self-loathing Krampus?
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The trees that surrounded the area loomed over the site like ancient guardians protecting their tiny treasures Nat and his friends hunkered down into the snow-covered grass, bracing themselves against the chill wind that blew in from the north of them. It smelled of wood smoke and burning gas.
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The Grey Monster has led to a global apocalypse. Nat and his group of friends wake to a hellscape when a bioweapons bomb drops in the Jenton orchards. Wolves crawl beneath their skin, and a genetically engineered religious cult decides they are demons worth hunting. Can they find a mad scientist in time before the…
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The rattling of the window panes in their frames existed as a dull frequency to grate at his nerves enough to tell him he should be up and out of there. The darkened room sat illuminated by the lifted rail line lights and a burning pink neon sign outside, blinking away Hotel Morrison.
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Snow and ice dripped from thatch eaves, creating slick, muddy tracks in the melt. Rodney’s birlinn docked on the second day of frost break. Thin sheets of ice dances around the hull, squeaking a thin tune over the thunk of wood and slap of rope. Gulls cried in a clear morning, greeting a pale pink…
Chapel Orahamm 