“This is the third time you’ve thrown us out of the City!” The tall, lanky man with dark and stringy red hair, stood alongside two other men while several of Danthamore’s guards forced them away from the front of the gates.
“Take your messages and displays elsewhere, If you don’t, you might find yourself swinging from Robber’s Row by your necks.”
THORN STOOD AT THE bow of his ship ‘My Hedera’
starring out into the dark night, lost in his deep thoughts. The
brigantine dipped and swayed into the huge waves that rocked the sea.
Dark storm clouds stretched across the skies blending into the black
Life truly does begin through the death of another. Following the funeral after the passing of his dad’s life in the year 1939, a man seen to light amidst worldly dealing he portrayed through a hidden mask. That one he held shown in view of public eye as a devoted loving family man with shared business ethics resenting God for the loss of his one and only beloved wife for all others to see.
Sitting in the passenger seat of his Camaro, I'm surrounded by the manly scent of leather and Armani. My heart is heavy as it pounds. We are headed back to his apartment for one last night before he leaves.
We collapsed together, our passions spent, and gave her silver ring as an engagement. She rested into my arms breathing slowly and contentedly. We soon fall asleep in each other’s arms, knowing to myself that I captured her, like a prisoner in a cage!
Monica Russo glanced in the rearview mirror to see if five-year old Kimber noticed her slip-up. It seemed nothing got by her daughter these days, but luckily the girl was engrossed with her tablet, watching her favorite movie for what seemed to be the hundredth time.
“OH FOR GOD’S SAKE!”
Blake McIntyre looked at the microwave clock. 2 a.m. He threw open his apartment door and made his way across the hall to hopefully halt the drone that was now filling his ears. He wasn’t amused.
"Moonlight streamed through the open slits of the curtains, dimly illuminating the room. He was there…his gentle hand caressed my shoulder. I couldn’t see him, but the essence of his energy filled my senses.
“Johnny! Goddamn it! Get down!” Richard yelled from his belly, the brush barely hiding him and the other four men on this clusterfuck of a mission. Just as the sound of gunfire erupted, Johnny hit the ground, not even a twitch from his body as bullets whizzed by like a thousand angry, deadly bees.
"I can't believe after four years, it's all going to change tonight." Fire Chief Keegan McLeod stirred the giant pot of sausage gravy on the stove in front of him. "How did you stand all the stress of waiting once you decided to as Morgan to marry you?"
"Call 911!" Trix felt her heart beating in her throat as she crouched over the seizing customer lying on the floor. Vaguely, she heard a few screams and a few shouts from other customers, but she did her best to focus on the blond college student in front of her. Flat on his back, his body jerked stiffly and his eyes rolled back.
To My Dearest,
With mere words, how do I tell you the destruction of everything in my young life - all that I loved and lived for? How can I explain to you what sustained me through unimaginable evil, when I myself don't know the answer? And after I survived it, but with a soul that was hollowed into a nihilistic ache, how did I manage to carry on, even as unbearable memories pursued me everywhere, like a pack of wolves hounding their prey?
The echoing, thunderous footsteps gained on her, the ground shaking beneath her feet. Paige pushed every ounce of strength she had left into her throbbing legs and propelled herself forward through the eerie trees, peering over her shoulder into the pursuing darkness, her blood pounding in her ears.
The creature was fast as lightning.
When the door opened, everything I wanted to say to Meredith, everything I’d rehearsed became two words. “You’re back.” A smile holding a hint of promise lit her face as if I’d left three minutes ago, not three years.
“Hold tight, Shifter, this is going to be bumpy.”
The small vehicle careened down the incline, ploughing a deep trough and throwing up a cloud of dirt and sand.
Eventually it plunged through the tangled branches of a group of slender trees and bushes at the bottom, and
shuddered to a halt.
Deep behind the country fields, tucked far away from the city and its inhabitants, lived a man who stared at parts of his sixteen-thousand-acre property pondering about his life. The warm, fall evening breeze touched the cotton tips, making them sway across the grounds as he breathed the mild air into his lungs. The owner’s name was Cain Anthony Westbrook, a wealthy entrepreneur, bachelor, and cultivator of cotton in South Effingham, a small county in the State of Georgia.
Kirby Swallow wanted to kick herself. No, 10-22 that— surveying her heavy makeup and green contacts in the rearview mirror, she admitted the truth to herself. She wanted to turn the car around and drive home as fast as the speed limit allowed.