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  1. Regret

    I left you stranded on a cold night,
    somewhere between the first touch
    of Autumn’s grace
    and the heaps of leaves
    spotting well-mended lawns.

    It is not the first infraction
    of mine upon the whisper
    “I love you,”
    Because it is easier to bark
    than to bite to the bone.

    And now you’re alone
    when you needed me most,
    and I, in lapsed pursuit,
    Whisper again,
    “I love you”.
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  2. Prologue to my debut Novel

    Prologue
    Memories of King Tyrel Salvidawn

    I wearily push the golden doors open and drag myself across the threshold into the sanctuary. Each step is in the uncertain. Should this be my last thought, then I wish to share it with another so that our fight, our sacrifices, may give you hope in despair. The battle will not end, not while there is one last Sentinel to fight for the safety of Anmor. Although I do not know what may become of me, my faith in this soldier grants me ...
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  3. Micro-story

    I’m not much of a romantic, but the sunrise in Ohio, on the best of terms, is enough to move me. Usually that movement is restricted to the day’s first cigerette, habit trumps all. Now, I’m not delusional enough to believe Ohio is some great state, where the view can be stamped on a postcard and marketed to newlyweds on the cusp of the greatest. Though Ohio does have the supernatural ability to be mundane, the quiet guy in the back of the class who wears solid color tee-shirts but might be somewhat ...
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  4. Beginnings: Blood Price

    This is the first of these I'm selling instead of giving away for free, as I'm finally confident it's worth something. The publisher's blurb was a bit sub-par, so I thought I'd promote it my own way: showing how it starts, and seeing if it hooks anyone.

    -- -- -- --

    Bob kept telling himself that it could be worse. After all, his niece of sixteen years (who was also his ward of six, and his perpetual worry of three months) could have decided to join a cult. She could ...

    Updated 8-3-14 at 10:06 PM by Feo Takahari

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  5. Chapter 1 Scene 4 (reviosn) The House on Berry Bay.

    1811


    “Who did this boy? The woman demanded in Senegalese as she poured water over the young boy’s broken, bleeding skin.
    The child hesitated, “John.” The boy replied, wincing as the older woman began to spread a salve over his back. She gritted her teeth as she worked, she could see the child’s struggle as he tried to hold back the tears that stung his eyes. The women started to chant softly waving her hands around wildly, the rhythmic ritualistic words calmed ...

    Updated 7-8-14 at 12:23 AM by The Blue Lotus

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