Under the Covers

·         Richard Albright was buttoned-up on the outside but had a wild streak running through him. When he met Alana, the daughter of a well- respected clergyman with years of complete compliance to total repression made her the girl of his parent’s dreams. He dutifully married her and made his parents very happy. He had been delighted to find out she was even more wicked than he was. He grinned when he opened up his e-mail. “Okay, you were not around so i had to walk up to complete strangers at the grocery store and ask, ‘ Do you wanna fuck?’ after the initial shocked expression they all grinned. Wonderful way to make new friends, darling.” He replied :0p “I like your style.”

Even Now

He parked the stupid white van and she got out, slammed the damn door and walked up the icy path carelessly.  She ran up the steps and heard him behind her. She turned and pushed the door shut in his face. He tried to open it but she had more leverage and more pissed off running through her veins. He shoved the two tickets to Buenos Aires under the door. She turned around in a rage and felt her handbag connecting with his nose.  Shocked, she waited for remorse to overcome her. It didn’t. They were even now.

Lost Nights

Close to midnight when he had returned from work, he seemed irritated by her presence already. He laced up his sneakers and she grabbed hers afraid he would leave without her. He walked for hours and she tried to keep pace with him. This was insane, this crazy path they seemed stuck on lately. Neither of them bothered to sleep or eat anymore. She was near exhaustion, so he walked even faster. Soon he was far ahead, miles from home in an unfamiliar part of the city. She sat on the curb at a dimly- lit gas station till morning.

No More Red Roses

He handed her roses.  She said nothing, her shoulders shaking violently as she cried soundlessly.  Finally she said calmly, “So what are you trying to tell me? “ He said, “Nothing, I’m not trying to tell you anything.”  Finally she said, “Tell me. I’m strong enough to take it. Just give the goddamn bad news. ” Still he refused.   She said, “Fine, I will do it for you. Red roses mean love, right? So you are saying you don’t love me and you are leaving me right? Again.” It must have been the hundredth time. This time she was done.

Sci Fi

Grieg and Haigue clambered through the mountainous terrain of their threatened homeland resolute expressions belying their intense focus. Identical save one dark skinned and one light, they were the hope of their clan. The Calman had summoned them, given them targets, and impressed upon them the utter finality of the situation. Being accustomed to both constant relocation and often illogical strategy made the Yekim dangerous and unpredictable foes. Yet the Nicodom were not without strengths to parallel. Their twin minds worked together smoothly and efficiently, like those of all of their clan, making words unnecessary.

• A 'Real' Writer

  by Kelly Jean Richardson
  Right in the middle of the formal event, I got a killer idea for a book setting. And no, it had nothing to do with what was going on at the moment. I was so excited i could hardly stand still.
  
  Okay, I'd already written eight books without even trying to get one published. Somehow, I was really never quite sure that I was a member of that exalted club yet. Until, I suddenly realized that no one but another writer could know I felt.
  
  I mean the idea was so promising that I felt giddy with excitement. I was literally bouncing up and down in place, almost out of my shoes.
  
  The sky looked the most amazing shade of blue. The flowers were bursting with a rainbow of vivid colors. I almost swooned. Perhaps this sounds over the top to someone who has never written a book. But, I kinda felt like lovesick schoolgirl.
  
  I fufilled the rest of my duties admirably. If you saw the photos taken that day, I was the one in the back row with the big goofy grin and the killer glint in my eye.

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    Nadia Faydh not everything we write is meant for publishing. sometimes the mere process of writing means more to us than what we actually write. keep it up, Kelly, and let the best of you come out in your words