Gallery
Literature
First Date
A roll of her shoulder, a sway to the right, and her wrist settled alongside his on the armrest. She’d expected skyrockets. What she felt was not hiss, bang, sizzle. But the tiny hairs along her arm did sort of—well—dance. He didn’t mutter under his breath or pull away so she crooked her little finger, scratching softly along the outside of his hand. Her nail caught on something in the dark—a tiny patch of cushion, slick and square—then tripped over a long ridge of hardened flesh. Did his skin vibrate under her touch? She inhaled. The scent of coconut and black pepper filled her nose. Maybe a whiff of WD-40. She held the air in her lungs for a heartbeat. Savored it. Puffed it back out. Then lifted her whole hand and set it atop of his. His knuckles bumped along in a line under her palm: knotting tightly at first, then shifting and rippling as if they were thinking about making a run for it. She counted to twenty in her head. He didn’t move again. She counted to ten, her pinkie finger
All
294 deviations
Literature
First Date
A roll of her shoulder, a sway to the right, and her wrist settled alongside his on the armrest. She’d expected skyrockets. What she felt was not hiss, bang, sizzle. But the tiny hairs along her arm did sort of—well—dance. He didn’t mutter under his breath or pull away so she crooked her little finger, scratching softly along the outside of his hand. Her nail caught on something in the dark—a tiny patch of cushion, slick and square—then tripped over a long ridge of hardened flesh. Did his skin vibrate under her touch? She inhaled. The scent of coconut and black pepper filled her nose. Maybe a whiff of WD-40. She held the air in her lungs for a heartbeat. Savored it. Puffed it back out. Then lifted her whole hand and set it atop of his. His knuckles bumped along in a line under her palm: knotting tightly at first, then shifting and rippling as if they were thinking about making a run for it. She counted to twenty in her head. He didn’t move again. She counted to ten, her pinkie finger
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Literature
Ahren's Gift
Dear Ahren,
Happy Holidays, my angsty friend!
I know, I know. “Holidays?” you are wondering. “What are those?” “Happy? – pfft. No such thing. Not any more.” Well, the annual winter days of celebration are upon us, whether you recognize them or not. And happiness can come in any size or shape.
Take, for example, the box sitting before you now. Wrapped in silver foil. (More resistant to heat.) Held closed by a thin silk ribbon, shiny black. (A color we have in common, hmm?) I tied it myself. Yes, my fingers are working again; thanks for asking. A couple of years of therapy and all of my limbs now move as I
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Literature
Brides of Avermore, Ch 1
Somewhere nearby, a girl laughed with delight; a high wavering note that caught and carried on the wind. Ah, such an enchanting sound, thought Edmund Avermore. The sound of youth. The sound of life.
It was an unseemly thought—or perhaps an unavoidable one, considering the circumstances. The barber was still bent over Lady Avermore's bed, his lancet shining in a shaft of morning sunlight. The blade was slicing cleanly through the pale skin at the top of her right breast to release the evil vapors. Edmund winced. The barber and the motionless form of Edmund's wife did not.
As a bead of red oozed from the wound, the Lord of Avermore Manor
The Brides of Avermore
10 deviations
Literature
The Falconer's Daughter
Do you remember me, Pia?
He removes the packet from the inside breast pocket of his leather jacket. It glows whitely against the black satin lining, less so against the crimson exterior. He doesn't open the slip of folded paper, but turns it idly in his hands. Seeing it. Not seeing it.
If you do think of me now and then, I imagine it is not my face that comes to mind. We never saw each other the night we met. He chuckles ruefully at the memory. And your family kept you far removed from me after that.
The blade from a straight-edge razor rests on the coffee table in front of him. He's come to think of this as his coffin table. It has never
The Falconer's Daughter
3 deviations
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2 deviations
Literature
Fellowship Rising, Chapter 1
If he stopped, his Da would die before he got home. If he didn’t, a schizophrenic cokehead would open fire on a schoolyard, killing six preschoolers.
“May seventeenth,” he murmured to himself. “Twenty fifty-five.” Atlanta. Sometime just after one-ten in the afternoon. Any more accurate than that he could not be without a closer look.
Asher St. Lucas dropped his left hand from the clutch and lowered it to his side, cupping the air that raced alongside him down the highway. Fingerless gloves let his skin taste the wind. It was risky trying to view both then and now at the same time. But, if he pulled his bike ove
Fellowship Rising
38 deviations
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5 deviations
Literature
REVISED Chapter Void: 1.3655976751203
Dying is a lot like being born. I’ve done both, so I can say this with authority. One moment I was in a safe, familiar place; the next I was spat out into the void—a place far from familiar and, for several scary seconds, not one bit safe.
My stomach fluttered up into my chest, just as it had the moment I was born.
My arms flailed, fingers splayed to grab hold of something—anything—solid and secure. Just as they had on April 16, 1958.
I sucked in a big ol’ lungful of air, unsure for a second what I was supposed to do with that sweet-sour thing filling my nose—the same way I had in the delivery room.
And
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6 deviations
Literature
REVISED Chapter Void: 1.3655976751203
Dying is a lot like being born. I’ve done both, so I can say this with authority. One moment I was in a safe, familiar place; the next I was spat out into the void—a place far from familiar and, for several scary seconds, not one bit safe.
My stomach fluttered up into my chest, just as it had the moment I was born.
My arms flailed, fingers splayed to grab hold of something—anything—solid and secure. Just as they had on April 16, 1958.
I sucked in a big ol’ lungful of air, unsure for a second what I was supposed to do with that sweet-sour thing filling my nose—the same way I had in the delivery room.
And
AYL Edited
1 deviation
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