My head fills with the sound of metal crunching into metal, the sensation of my body flinging forward then back, a scream that I'm not sure emerges from my throat.
"Autumn, can you hear me?" My mother's voice filters through the noise.
Seth wrung a blood-soaked hand towel until the fabric pinched the flesh of his aching palms. Droplets of Natti's diluted blood trickled into the running water. When the cotton began to dry, he drowned it again and wrung it out even tighter.
Malay A. Upadhyay grew up in the Eastern provinces of paradoxical India. It was a childhood of anomalies - a different spacetime, where he could not understand a friend's passion for books on one hand even as he wrote for school elocution on the other. Today, all his stories belong...
Did you know that it’s possible to own a ghost? Well, we do.
She arrived in a Victorian trunk that my wife and I purchased not too long ago, and her name is Mary. Currently, she exists in her camelback trunk on our carport here in Georgia.
When the witching hour hits and sleep dies, one’s mind can take total control of the 3 AM insomniac. On this particular early morning, my brain screamed, "Think back George. Remember the Shenandoah Valley, Washington, D.C. and all the sites, the Smithsonian, the Naval Academy and time to pray, New York City, Radio City Music Hall, The Rockettes, Central Park, the Empire State Building, Rockefeller Center, all those Yellow Cabs like ants below us, Chinatown, Little Italy, Times Square, the climb up into the brains of the Statue of Liberty.
WARNING: Dangerous Curves, Turns, and Twists Dead Ahead!
You've been duly warned above in bold, red, and steamy text.
The next chapter is not for the reading weak at heart or any lover of books who is the least bit squeamish about what goes on outside the covers between two consenting young lovers.
I am not writing big classics. I am doing short books for people who want something to read by the pool or in one evening. First person narratives which are easy to follow to give the pleasure of finishing a book to folks who have not picked one up for...
My jumbled and confused thoughts irritate me: Am I good or am I evil? I’m not sure. How can I be sure?
Grandfather Gawonii (“He is speaking”) at my birth was undecided if my presence would be the genus of stormy days to come or the gild-edged silver lining after storms. He, therefore, proclaimed me, “ThunderCloud!” minutes before he passed away.
ThunderCloud... looks into an excommunicated, Native-American teenager's struggles to survive in a world of strangers. ThunderCloud’s outer adventures force him to confront his inner demons—real and imaginary, which have led...
“Get out of the way fat ass!”
Lucy immediately felt the sting of tears in her eyes and her cheeks get hot. She glanced sideways quickly and watched the boys on their bikes whip around the corner, hearing their laughter.
David Adamson Harper started his working life as a British naval officer serving out of the Hong Kong station, which became the backdrop for his first novel KWANGCHOW. After leaving the navy he joined the management program at Grace Line in New York and spent many years in Panama and...