Finding Your MonsterFinding Your Monster
I got such a fright that I wet myself. Sean had grabbed my ankle as I had walked past the bed. He was a monster, my brother - always jumping out at me from behind closed doors or coming up behind me when I was sitting minding my own business. The worst was when he jumped out from the closet or grabbed me from underneath the bed. I suppose the plus side for me was that he now had a hand covered in urine.
"Eew Julie. That's so gross!" Sean crawled from beneath the bed and walked to the bathroom across the hall. I heard the tap running, and generous amounts of soap being squirted from the liquid soap dispenser. Silence as I presumed he dried his hands, and then he walked back into my room.
"I'm going to tell dad what you did," embarrassment filled my voice, "And then you'll have to mop the floor anyway, so you might as well get started now. "I'm going to bath. Again." Marching from the room I left a splattering of drops in my wake. As I closed the bathroom do
Drowning Sirens: Prologue
Prologue: A picture is worth a thousand words...
Just off the Gulf of Mexico Mrs. Waverly was peeling the skin from a boiled shrimp she had bought at the market that morning. The steam had begun to rise in her quaint kitchen and she had raised all of her windows to thin the air. The smells of the sea rushed into her house, mixing with the hydrangeas and lavender she had planted outside.
She inhaled deeply and strolled into the living room, wiping her hands on a damp rag. Mrs. Waverly stopped just in front of the bay window facing the ocean basin. Off in the distance she could see the docks and a few fishing boats barely returning from their day's work. She pressed her fingertips against the glass and smiled warmly as the small heads of her children bobbed across a hill of murky white sand.
Mrs. Waverly waved to them generously as they held up their toy buckets in triumph. The face of her eight year-old son was smug and confident while her four-year old daughter's was f
The Phantom of the StadiumThis had been Chrissie's big chance, she thought. The stadium seated two thousand people—more than ten times bigger than the sort of audience she was used to—and wasn't it possible that one of them might be someone important? Someone in a band? Or maybe even some kind of opera guy. She had always wanted to have a go at opera, which, given her present situation, seemed kind of ironic. Or was it literal? Figurative? She settled for "weird."
"Weird" also summed up the man at the organ quite nicely. His hands flew across the rows of keys, occasionally snapping out to one side or the other, working the stops. A porcelain mask obscured half his face. The other half was nothing to write home about. Rated from one to ten in overall sexiness, it was somewhere around a three. Like, definitely not bad, but not impressive in any way whatsoever. If a face with one really nice feature was average, this was alright, I guess. Basically, the visible half of his face was unremarkable. Chri
Winter Storms"I know I shouldn't."
Thor stared at the metal grates beneath his feet. His armor had grown heavy since the Avengers' victory against the alien invasion. Now that a war was prevented, he had to face his inner battle. Would he risk losing his brother again?
He sat in the back of the armored hummer provided by S.H.I.E.L.D, ignoring the trace blonde hairs that fell around his face. In a way, he hoped they hid his indecision. He brushed his hand against the side of his chin, relishing in the familiar sound of his stubble scratching his callused palms.
A low, muffled scoff resonated from the other side of the vehicle. Thor leaned back against the vibrating walls of the steel-clad car and stared sorrowfully into two fuming, green eyes. A storm was thundering overhead, causing the hummer to jolt and swerve uncontrollably. Still, it was perhaps the only moment he and Loki would have before facing Odin's judgment. Thor eyed the metallic, vented mask that covered the bottom half of