I'd met "Jen" on craigslist when she responded to one of my stories. Most emails I get are either scams, throw-away remarks, or guys asking me to double-team their wives. Jen, however, had composed a full-screen treatise on what she didn't like about my writing. Buttons were pushed. A few emails later, we were meeting for coffee downtown. A few dates later,...
It had been two weeks and it was time for her second reward. We left the office but as we did I realised I'd forgotten what I needed so went back, held us up by about sixty seconds. Pocket full and we strode quickly. She knew what it was about now and didn't intend to waste any time. While walking I discussed the previous time against the wall, her collap...
She climbed the stairwell with deliberate caution, her footsteps landing flatly upon the bits of melting ice on each step. The green rubber doormat at the foyer's front door generally failed as a reminder of consideration. People generally hurried past it to escape the bite of the wind and find refuge in the warmth of their cozy apartments. It wasn't the wea...
"Pitiful loser," Lord Vaughn said, and the Elder Vampire looked at the fledgling before spitting in disgust. As the Master of the Blood Legion, it was Lord Vaughn's duty to train new recruits and turn them into a force to reckon with. The Supreme Council of the Undead expected no less of him. The aforementioned loser happened to be Omar Selkirk, and he was t...
XCI War Gabrielle 2041 Like most men—even bisexual men—Ghazi wasn't someone who'd willingly display his true emotions, especially not those such as sorrow, misery and distress. This time, however, Gabrielle was in a position she'd never been in before and one for which she was not remotely suited and that was to provide comfort to a man who'd lost his emoti...
Imagine a world that has shrunk to just this: a lone gas-station town in the middle of a desert. It's a town of bleached wood and dusty plastic, a town of rainbow-sheened metal and pumps with no gas left. No, it's not a ghost town. People live here, mechanics whose jean-and-flannel uniforms are like tradition: passed down for so long that they only hint at t...
I was having the most wonderful dream. I was a warrior playing a post-apocalyptic killsport called PunishBall. Heavily armored and wielding a 12-pound sledgehammer I defended my goal against the evil enemy. One dared enter my territory and I stopped him cold with a mighty blow from my sledge. Stunned, my foe staggered and fell to the ground, his helmet torn...
Inspired by a remark from my 'little sister'. My grateful thanks to evanslily for her time and patience, and her editing skills. As always, the good stuff is due to her, the mistakes are mine. ALLIE The Piccadilly line in the middle of the morning is hardly the Road to Damascus, and yet the premonition that morning was no less apocalyptic in my life. The...
With a swift swing of my bayonet, I cut the head off a large zombie. In mortal life, the creature had been a tall and chubby, forty-something white male, and it was still wearing the faded blue mechanic's overalls it had on when it died and reanimated after been bitten. The severed head fell on the ground, and I tossed it aside after bisecting the brain. Now...
Cinematic female-to-male impersonations have usually been meant to fool the characters on-screen but not the audience, which is typically in on the ruse. Critics have often raised the question of whether a woman can play a mature man with enough conviction to deceive the other characters (except in farce). Indeed, girls and women have more often been deploye...