A soft wind ripples the grass beneath the gallows tree…

“They were here before we even knew it,” she whispers. Her young face is covered in dirt, streaked through with tears.

He is silent as he watches the sun spill blood into the sky as it bows low.

A beautiful punctuation to a horrific sentence.Read the rest of this entry »

“Hit by a car.”

“Too… anonymous.”

“You’re driving.”

“Maybe.”

“Burning?”

“Too Puritan.”

“Flay him.”

“Too Game of Thrones.”Read the rest of this entry »

Emma and Noah stared at the seven vials of dodgy looking liquid lined up carefully on the coffee table.  Each glass container had a number. That was all. Just a number. One through seven.

“That’s it?” Noah asked, picking up a vial and studying it.

“That’s what they said.” Emma nodded.Read the rest of this entry »

She tried to look busy.  It was hard enough convincing herself to get out and try something knew. This place wasn’t so bad. It was quiet. Nice colors. The table was very clean. She could smell some sort of bread baking. It wasn’t so bad. But this wasn’t what Amanda had in mind, wasn’t what she wanted. Sitting in a restaurant she’d never been to, waiting for a man she didn’t know.

“You need to get out,” her sister told her. “Just try. Try to get out. Try to see people. It’ll be good for you.”Read the rest of this entry »

Like every day, the pinging started early.

Ping.

I looked over at my phone on the nightstand, then closed my eyes.

Ping.

Ping.

I could ignore it. I could just turn off the volume and roll over and ignore the stupid thing.

Ping.

Ping. Ping. Ping.

“Shit.” I grabbed the phone and read the texts.Read the rest of this entry »

It was not a difficult decision.

Not really.

They had to die. And if she had to do it… so be it.

Justice must prevail.

Felicity McIntyre stared at the black wrought iron sign with ornate gold lettering. A small lump grew in her throat as she glared at the perfect lawn and perfect flower bed. Perfect because it was like every other well-manicured piece of property in the small suburban village. Perfect and uniform and uninspired and wholly admired because…Read the rest of this entry »

*This was my first jaunt into the land of no rewrites. An oldie, but a goodie. 

Run.

Stop.

Turn.

Run.

Run.

Stop.

Run.

Run.

That was his life. How it always was. How it always would be. Never stop. Never rest. Just run. If he didn’t run, bad things happened. If he didn’t run, his job was left undone and his purpose… well, if he didn’t run, he had no purpose. And without purpose, there was no reason for him. It was that simple.Read the rest of this entry »