October 31, 2012
The forth book in a five book shifter series from Red Rose Publishing, Echopharte tells of the origins and evolution of the shifters.
The ancients revered them. The colonists feared them. Today, no one believes in them. Shifters have lived and worked among humans since before recorded history.
Echopharte tells of the first community and how both good and evil have continuously shaped our society, from ancient times up to the present day.
October 13, 2012
This is a short, Paranormal Romance in celebration of Halloween.
She was cold and hurt. Again.
He had been drunk. Again.
This had been the worst one yet. As soon as he went to sleep, Kelly was going to leave and call the woman’s shelter. Perhaps he already was asleep. She didn’t hear him and now that her headache was easing a little, she realized it was way too cold. Had he set the AC to freeze in his drunken stupor?
She slowly opened her eyes, expecting the headache to worsen in the morning light. But there wasn’t any light.
Cold. It was so damn cold. And she realized she was still nude and laying on the floor. Wait a minute! Their bedroom had hardwood floors as did most of their home. She felt bare concrete under her. No wonder she was cold!
Tentatively, she reached out and her fingers brushed a concrete block. “Honey?” Her soft voice was totally lost in the darkness. Quickly rolling over, she felt her knuckles tear against another concrete surface, above her. “Honey! Where am I?” This tumbled out of her almost as a shout.
It only took a few seconds of scrambling about on her back to realize she was in a concrete box. Smooth on all sides except the one where she felt the rough edges of the blocks. The smell of curing cement finally woke her completely.
Kelly tore at the walls until her fingernails were gone and screamed until the air ran out.
October 6, 2012
Awhile back, I had this horrible nightmare that turned into a lucid dream. When I woke, I started writing. This tale is the result of that dream.
Written by Anthony Stevens
Edited by Stephanie Q. McGrath (firstname.lastname@example.org)
It was with some trepidation that I accepted the key to the family mausoleum from my father. His usually cheerful expression was quite serious as he explained that upon the passing of my sixteenth year on this Earth, I was to learn more of our family history and responsibilities. All of my many questions were turned aside as I was dutifully informed I was to unlock the crypt, enter and read the inscriptions therin.