This story, though seemingly unrelated, is the second part of the trilogy that was begun with Tender Mercies. The series ends (presently) with The Chaos Blade. Part 1 : Yamara Chapter 1 Darkness. Darkness and pain, my first memories. Hiding in the closet of the room my mother and I shared while she conducted her business. I was too young to know what she...
(WMD = Winter Men's Dilemma; My own irreverent spin on the BBC mythology) *Editing magic performed by KJ24 and Shyqash, plus contributions by the regular gang of brigands and neer-do-wells* *All the sexual participant in this story are eighteen, or older* *This story is NOT TO BE TAKEN SERIOUSLY!* * Vlad ~ "You actually expect me to believe my Father, Br...
I was running down the streets of Springfield, scared shitless after learning that The Thirteen not only knew my name, but had also taken my parents hostage. They were going to kill me as soon as I turned on my phone, or contacted anyone I knew. The mysterious Mentor I had chatted with claimed my parents would be killed no matter what I did. The reason I wa...
I'm honored that blackrandl1958 invited me to participate in the Siren's Song collection. I appreciate her kindness. This story would be equally at home in Romance or Sci-Fi. I thought it might be slightly more appropriate here, but it's half a dozen of one, six of the other. Siobhan is an Irish name that is pronounced Shivahn. * * * * * Sea lion woman,...
The Imperial Palace on Kinta was in a state of chaos, with flustered officials scurrying down corridors, their frightened faces reflecting the febrile atmosphere on the Kintark homeworld. Tamolith the Consort prowled down one of the grand corridors leading to the Emperor's throne room, her fearsome draconic features twisted into a scowl of contempt. Ever sin...
Sequel to What are the odds? Dear reader. This is set in Australia. We spell colour, with a 'u'. We have arses. We are sometimes arses. OK, most of the time we are arses. 'Shit' is one of our most versatile words. 'Fuck' is punctuation and sometimes 'Cunt' is a diminutive sobriquet. "Naw, lookit the little cunt." I'm sorry in advance for the legwork you may...
Brooklyn I staggered into my house, kicking off my heels the moment I stepped through the door. I'd flown to Seattle, Washington, on Tuesday morning, and now, Friday evening, I was finally home in Chicago, tired and ready to sleep in my own bed. Short of flying charter, first class was as good as it got, but I still had to deal with crowds, terminals, lugga...
Author's Note: Edited by Expoh, AnnabelleFalls13, Michael Scott, and Zald. **** It had been a good handful of hours since Jackson had gone with Shaka into the mountain. Chaki was sitting at the campfire outside her family's tipi. Landri sat with her. Palla was sleeping inside. The night was cold, so they brought out a blanket to cover themselves. It was...
Author's Note: This story was written some time ago. It became a sort of pet project, to be picked up whenever I felt like it. I am not sure if it is any good, but if you enjoyed the story, then my goal as a writer is fulfilled. Feel free to comment. ***** Projecting the Wild Man From the Jottings of Anna Pollock Spring, summer, autumn and winter. They...
Freebird! Eddie Nesbit could not carry a tune under the best of circumstances but with only the uncaring wind to hear him bellow, emulating Ronnie Van Zant was not the hardest task. Above the hearty drone of the 351 Ford motor pushing him up the mighty Mississippi in an old Ski Nautique, Eddie and the late Van Zant sang their hearts out in praise of the als...