A young woman with bright red hair walked hesitantly into the airport terminal, her eyes warily scanning the crowds. Her hands trembled around the small bag she was carrying. Her eyes began to water as she realized she had wasted her money. He wasn't going to show up, was he? He had decided it was just not worth it and had avoided telling her. Her head hung...
We Roma, Gypsies as you call us, are nomads. Always have been. That's how we spread all through the Balkans, all through Eastern Europe in general. I guess there's a certain romance to life on the open road. At least, you gadje certainly seem to think so. That's the word we call you outsiders. Gadje. Me? I've shared a bed with a hot gadje from Budapest to Mi...
You are roused from sleep by a banging on the door. Checking your watch you see it is past noon. It was a heavy night last night and your head is throbbing. You remember you are the only one in the house, so you roll out of bed, throw on a dressing gown over your naked body and stumble to the door. In front of you is an old gypsy woman. "Sprig of lucky...
Monica Hughes was surprised when SupaStorm didn't show up with his "StormChasers"-the muscular entourage that seemed to follow him around everywhere. It was weird seeing him all by himself as he walked into the studio just a few blocks from the Barclays Center, where she saw him in concert earlier in the year. He was much shorter in person-almost her height...
The bright light entering Esric's room woke him long before the pounding on his door startled him out of bed. He groaned as he walked slowly to the door, opening it to reveal one of his servants. Esric could not remember the servant's name at the moment, nor did he care. "What is it?" he asked in a sleepy tone. "Your Father requests that you and your g...
Dear Dirty Diary, Brassy trumpets, thumping drums and crashing cymbals increasingly trespassed into the soundtrack of my most lushly sensual daydream. The brassy confusion of marching bands obliterated the wind's delicate whispering through tall pine trees as well as the plaintive cries of loons. My shimmering vision of sparkling blue waters surrounding our...
A caravan moved steadily across the muddy, rain filled road. It was the late seventeen hundreds, The land scape of Europe looked much different then it does now. Most of the land was shrouded in woods. Dirt roads. which carried ox pulled wagons, horses, and caravans, filled the open areas. This particular caravan consisted of four horse drawn covered wagons...
This story is a work of fiction solely from the twisted mind of Chromex. Any resemblance to any persons living or dead is purely coincidental. All characters are of at least 18 years of age unless otherwise specifically mentioned. Please do not copy/redistribute the story, in part or total, without the author's permission. * "Who's Mercy?" That simple sta...
The Morning of Noodles, Cabbage and Prophecy #3 Today, I’m going to make some egg noodles for a cheap and boiled Polish dish. It’s kluski kapusta po! Pay attention, because you will want to compile your shopping list. These noodles are kosher and very economical. All the ingredients are readily kype-able at a supermarket in your locale. Crack six eggs and...
Authors Note: I would like to thank everyone who has voted and sent me e-mail. I know I have no posted regularly to this story, but I think two stories so close will make up for it a bit. I will try to have the next chapter out as soon as possible. A HUGE thanks to my Editor, who made it possible for me to continue this story. Lady T * The sun was hot as...