Ebenezer somehow found himself back near the rectory house on a fog bound night that one would expect to be bone-chilling clammy and cold, but he was still enveloped in comfortable warmth. Just a few feet away he caught site of an unfamiliar specter, very dark but with a sheen of foggy light, just enough to distinguish it in the moonless dark of night. It wa...
Michael stepped into the front room of the very large house. He looked around as his footsteps echoed through the hand crafted halls. "It's really great of you to be doing this while your grandfather is in the hospital." Julie said, snapping Michael out of his trance. "It's not a problem. It's not like I'm complaining..." He looked around the small mansion...
I felt myself dissolving. Darkness. A thought. A wish. A vision. A flash. And there... Madrid. Spain. Midnight. I'm actually here. Finally. I'm standing in this street. This very street. Near the driveway that leads up to Tate's House. I can't believe it. I need to savour it. This moment of reckoning... Grey rays of pale moonlight filtered through the trees...
Marshall and Lee rose early the next morning, pausing just long enough to enjoy a quick cup of coffee before heading to the Alamo church. Few tourists were about yet. They left an offering in the basket by the door, lit two candles, then selected an empty pew and knelt, each man becoming lost in his own thoughts. Marshall refused to think about the period o...
This is part of an ongoing series - I highly recommend you go back and read from the beginning. We'll still be here when you get back. :) Alternate title: his infernal way of being As always, comments and feedback much appreciated. Longer chapter this time; heard what you had to say and managed to get some more words on the page. Also, something new this...
...Next I find myself in a room absolutely alone, sitting on the edge of a bed, and as it happens in dreams, the premonition of something inevitable, frightful and insurmountable is already nagging at the back of my mind. The rasping sound of a key in the door startles me, stirs up the sensation of the inner fatalistic alarm even more: into the room comes a...
"Ahhh, Professor Caldwell. That poetry. It's so moving. I had no idea—" "Hush, Lawrence. Live the moment. How does this make you feel?" "It's like nothing I've felt before. But should we . . . should you . . .? I've never—" "No words now, Lawrence. We let the Romantic writers speak our words for us. They do it so well. This poem from Keats. Did it not mak...
-All characters mentioned are 18 years or older. There are no minors in a bathhouse. No animals, homeless, or aliens from outer space were injured in the writing of this story. This story is currently being considered for a Hollywood film, it is anticipated that guests at award events will have a choice of vegan meals, peanut butter sandwiches, or pepperoni...
(Note to reader: For a fuller context for this story, read the "Wolf Creek" novella series and "The Photograph 1: John" and "The Photograph 2: Jamie.") Joe knew his unit shouldn't have entered the Scharzwald this close to dusk. The doughboys had been picked off one by one by the huns, hidden in the trees. But Joe knew someone must get through and warn the b...
Note; this story uses the analogy of an ejaculation/orgasm being a type of death. Down. Down. The subsurface wave of turbulent water the ship created as it tumbled over pushed me down. Deeper and deeper. I flailed about helplessly against the huge powerful weight of it, not even knowing which way was up, and then after what seemed an eternity of struggling...