Connecting Readers and Writers discussion

Here is a place where you can put the first 100 words of your piece of work. It could be a novel, short story, poem, whatever. You may put it here and the link to where someone can buy the book, that's all. (anything more will result in the deletion of the post).

I wanted to do this because I love walking thru a bookstore and reading the first few lines of books. Sometimes as inspiration and sometimes to get a feel for the book. So I thought I would make a virtual version. Enjoy!

I"LL GO FIRST!

The Colors of Qua


She sees me. I make sure of it. For this moment, we are just two strangers, seeing each other for the first and last time. We are bound together by our stares. I get chills. It’s the one time that I get to feel…anything.

Often when they see me, they start to say something; other times they don’t. In that moment, when our eyes lock and I know we only have a few seconds together, I try to convey to them everything they need to know. That they’re not alone, that it will only hurt for a moment, and then nothing will ever hurt again.

I sit one row over and three seats back from Nicole Evans in physics class. We’ve been in school for more than a month now, and I’m not sure if she’s noticed me once. I noticed her immediately. For a senior guy in high school, it’s kind of hard not to notice the perfect girl. She’s smart and funny, and when she smiles she lights up the entire room. That’s what drew me to her first. Her smile. It’s warm and sincere, complemented by her eyes. They narrow ever so slightly when she smiles. Her eyes. Blue as an ocean that seems to have no bottom.
In My Shoes

Being Human
It is said vampires forget their human lives. As soon as they are turned, the memories start fading. One theory is because of need. The need to sate the hunger and thirst overtakes their senses. It consumes their thoughts and washes every little bit of humanity away until they no longer remember their human life. Another theory is that their mind changes too much. They no longer know how to think, move, talk or feel like a human. The final theory is that they simply let it go. They aren't human anymore, so what’s the point of remembering?

The Toad King: A Soldier's Story
Major John Elliott ran like a hunted man. His lungs stung as he sucked at the cold winter air. He stumbled over a root, caught his balance, and ran on. After a few more yards, John stopped and looked back down the trail. It was hard to see. The boughs of dormant trees filtered most of the full moon, marking the new fallen snow with a crisscross of dark shadows. There was no sign of his pursuers, but even so, he could feel their presence. He ran on.

Athena's Promise http://www.amazon.com/Athenas-Promise...

Hearing the phone ring a full hour before the start of my shift was usually a sure sign the day was going to go right down the toilet. Living on site in a hotel as the front desk manager has its perks, but being on call 24/7 sure wasn't one of them. I guess I should have been used to it, but that didn't mean I hated it any less.
Of course, since the accident at Atlantis some twenty years ago, opening the Portal and allowing just any creature to cross over, calls like this were all too common.

Heart's Promise http://www.jeanettehornby.com.au/
Reaching into the folds of her yellow cotton skirt-pocket, Milly’s fingers traced over the pocketknife hidden there. It was cool to touch but she felt her skin grow warm with anticipation.
“Did you get it?” Patty’s familiar voice resonated across the empty block and Milly turned to face her. With eyes as blue as a midday sky, Patty’s straight blonde hair shifted in the breeze. “Did you?” Patty asked, moving by her side.
Nodding, Milly nudged closer to the tall white gum tree in the middle of the block before taking the knife from her pocket.

The Written: Part 1 of the Emaneska Series, by me of course.
Check it out at www.bengalley.com, and don't forget to sign up for the Goodreads Giveaway; only 3 days left!


"It was snowing outside. The white flakes fell lazily in the night breeze, dusting the rocky mountainside with an ivory blanket. Little crystals of ice, each as perfect as the next, flurried and spun and danced through the cold air. A tall spire rose from an outcrop of quiet buildings amongst the snowy crags, where one lonely yellow window glowed brightly through the blizzard. Framed by the light, a very old man stood at the windowsill with his arms crossed. He sighed with tiredness and fought back yet another yawn..."

Enjoy ;)

The Way of the Black Beast
Malja had followed the killer for hours. She hid amongst the shadows of the forest pines and birches, careful not to alert him with any sound. Though he acted as if out for a stroll, all her instincts told her a confrontation neared.
He stepped into an open clearing. The broken macadam of a four-lane highway long dead cut through only to disappear in an overgrowth of weeds and vines. Insects meandered in the tall grass. A rusting signpost — NO FLYER LANDING — held a lonely vigil in the center.
The killer stopped near the sign and raised his face to the clouds.

The first 100 words in my book are a little too steamy to post, so this is a little further down the page.


After All Is Said And Done
Sarah left his office and made her way to the elevators. She adjusted her blouse and collar as the elevator hummed along. Taking the rare opportunity to be alone in a hospital elevator, she smiled and closed her eyes. She wanted to remember every single second of what had just happened. Gavin’s aftershave still lingered around her as she breathed deeply. Things had not been that exciting for some time between them and she felt encouraged that this was a new beginning.
The light stopped on the tenth floor and chimed. Her smile faded as Jessica Harrington stepped on.

First 100 words of From Light to Dark:

Getting stoned to death wasn’t the worst thing that could happen—or so Eref told himself when the first rock cracked over his head.
But it hurt. Blood trickled down his forehead and into his eyes, blocking the sharp rays of the sun overhead.
All around him, forty or fifty men dressed in long tunics shouted curses and flung stones at his naked body.
“Blasphemer!”
“Devil!”
“Treasoner!”
The bright power of the Governors’ Moonstone from its hidden place in Light World made certain each rock hit its target.
So many people had come to this hidden corner to watch him die.

Here' my book

: On October 23, Mr. Omlup was trying to have a session of the Saturday community-college class he taught outside of his computer lab. Few people would have guessed it was a class, if they caught sight of it now. OK, it wasn’t a class anymore as most of the students had already left, but it was more than just three people meeting at a coffee shop with a couple of laptops. That informality was the entire purpose of meeting here, the young teacher had told his students. No one wanted to work all week, then meet like a group of

and my series of short stories

: The flight in had been smooth.
The landing had been fine so they said.
Sure, the fellow meeting him seemed to be a little late, but it isn’t like that’s the end of the world.

The thought made Parker chuckle. Not the end of the world, huh? Now that’s almost a shame. Now, of course, that thought brought a sting of guilt; making him nearly choke upon the laughter.
Samuel’s quiet laugh had drawn the curious looks of a few of the other bored waiting passengers in the spaceport lobby with him. Other people, who seemed to be mostly waiting

Timepiece

Timepiece, by Heather Albano.

"John Freemantle felt every burst from the cannon as a jolt through his breastbone. At least the blasts no longer tore through his eardrums; his ears had been ringing for hours now, muting the roar into something almost manageable. His horse, a big bay possessed of considerably more battlefield experience than its rider, bore the noise stolidly, with no more sign of discomfort than the occasional twitching of an ear.

The British and their Belgian allies had been under heavy fire for most of the afternoon. In Freemantle’s opinion, “heavy fire” made it sound more civilized than it really was."

You can find Timepiece at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and Smashwords. Thanks!

Bluegrass State of Mind

Bluegrass State of Mind, by Kathleen Brooks. Book One of the Bluegrass Series.

"Her bare feet pounded down the concrete stairs. Her panty hose were ripped from where they snagged on the cold metal strips on the edge of each stair. Her feet stung with every step she took. She heard the door above her open. She pushed herself faster. She couldn’t let him catch her.
She jumped the last stair on the sixth floor, the impact of the jump reverberating up her body. She was pretty sure she had stopped breathing two floors ago. Her lungs burned as she forced her legs to move faster."

Thank you!

April, in general, is not a good month for me. Here in northern New Jersey, April can either be awash with daffodils or buried under a foot of snow, and waiting to see which way it will go kills me. I hate the April version of winter –some days, that nip of spring teases the air and gets you thinking about warm sunshine, but mostly it’s just cold enough to be miserable. The snow turns black and ugly in about six minutes, and the salt used on the roads gets in between the pads of my dog’s feet. Ever try washing the feet of a 60-pound lump of wet fur? Whimpering, quivering wet fur? No fun at all.
Better Off Without Him

Chapter One : A Latin Lesson, A Footrace, A Mysterious Chamber

"Sum, es, est," I intoned. "Summus, estis,sunt." My uncle, Baron John Cloyes of Colchester in Essex, nodded encouragement, his soft silver hair sliding loose from his brown felt stirrup hat and falling into his gray-blue eyes.
"Very good, my Hope," he murmured, pushing the hair from his gaunt features with a long, thin hand. He towered over me, well above six feet in height. Even at seventeen I showed no signs of carrying on the family tradition of statuesque grace. The few weeks my mother and I had passed here only confirmed my dwarfish status. My standing stool for this worktable had been raised twice and still the grammar tome sat just under my chin.

The Crecian Experiance

“This is Dale Green with Action News six at mid-day. There has been another death in the wave of unexplained murders sweeping the nation in the past few months. As we told you earlier, thirteen-year-old Billy Bukeford from rural Kentucky was the first victim, found dead and blindfolded in his family’s barn. An autopsy showed he had been burned from the inside. There have been several dozen similar murders since then. The latest victim was twenty-nine-year old Andrew King, who fell from a nine-story window here in Los Angeles this morning. He was also found wearing the signature blindfold. A John Minsky from Los Felize has been taken into custody as a suspect at this time. We will, of course, keep you updated as new details develop. Stay safe, Los Angeles.”

The Quest for the Hobo King

Hello and welcome, Gentle Reader.

I am your humble Narrator. I will be your guide through this, an epic adventure. Leading you on a fantastic journey; up to the highest of High Fantasy, and down to the very lowest of Low -

What?

I’m warming the audience up. Establishing a rapport.

Well, this is how I do things. You brought me on to narrate, and this is my style. You did look at my resume, didn’t you?

No, that’s not what it says. It says based on the works of George R.R. Martin. I’ve done glorious tributes and celebrations, in the style of many great authors.

Ahmose woke to a terrible, high-pitched wailing. She fought against sleep, kicked and scratched at it until it released her. She lay in her bed for a long time, eyes staring wide but seeing nothing in the dark, transfixed by the distant rise and fall of the cries. In the moments just after waking she could not place the sound. A cat? Some strange bird? Her mind cleared, and with a chill she recognized the sound of weeping women.

She found her way through the chamber in the dark, still naked, her feet cold against the mosaic floor.

The Sekhmet Bed

"Sometimes I feel like a character in a fairy tale. I don’t have a wicked stepmother, but sometimes I do feel like a prisoner held captive by my fears and doubts. I haven’t eaten any poison apples lately, but I have tasted the acrid flavor of Satan’s lies time and time again. I don’t recall pricking my finger on any spinning wheels, but I have felt the pain of rejection and betrayal. I’ve never bought any magic beans, but I, too, have made unwise investments that are still seeking to destroy me."

Random Ramblings of a Raving Redhead

“DAMN! I hate being cold! Cold and naked is worse - no wait - cold, naked, chained to a rock wall, lying next to your vampire lover in a dungeon is the worst. How in the hell did I get into this mess?” She was muttering to herself.
Oh yeah... a witch. Martiss, the bitch-witch.
Tatianna gritted her teeth. Just thinking of that short, toad-wart made her temperature rise. Oh well, it wasn't as cold when she was mad. Steam rose off her body and small flames danced on her fingertips. Her fire might keep her warm, but wouldn't get them out of this hell-hole, plus she couldn't let the witch or anyone else see any sign of her talent or they'd both be used to help the demon. She needed to appear to nothing but plain old human.

Available at Smashwords.

“There is blood everywhere, on the walls, on the tables; I’m not sure what I just stood in, but it’s slippery.
Johnny! I scream, to be heard over the racket from outside, but there’s no answer and I can’t see him in the dim light. There’s a wet thump against the outer wall, though I daren’t look out of the windows. If I do, I might never be able to look away.
The shrieking outside is like nothing I’ve ever heard, and I freeze. Clenching my hands to stop their trembling, I peer into the gloom. Soft red light from some torches show me nothing but a puppet-show of shadows fighting outside.

To read on, click here for the first few chapters.


The Sulphur Diaries by Georgina Kamsika

Icicles, sharp as sharks’ teeth, glint in the moonlight. The cave is a dark maw. Hesitating at the entrance, she searches the blackness.
Go in. Go in and look.
She glances over her shoulder, shivering. Snow bleaches the hillside and a far off church bell tolls: Midnight.
He’s gone. You saw him leave. Go in.
But there might be others. It could be a trap.
It isn’t. He’s gone. Go in.
She ventures into the cave, the pulse in her throat violent. Edging across the rock floor she eases into the shadows. Her breathing is ragged, her limbs stiff.

DON'T LOOK DOWN by Barbara Scott Emmett


THRILLER

The curtains were open as usual. Will Frampton opened his eyes and looked at the clock by his bed.
Ah great, he thought. Saturday morning, nothing to do and as usual, I’m awake at twenty past seven.
It was Will’s habit on a Friday night to take a herbal sleeping pill, in the hope that he would have a long, uninterrupted sleep after a week of waking at least once a night to go to the bathroom, usually around 3.30. He found alcohol taken in the levels required to sleep all night just made him feel ill all the next day, and added to the problem of his bladder.
Have A Nice Weekend

Pat woke at dawn and violently cast the bedding off her overheated body. She was naked beneath the covers. She ran her hands over her body wiping away the moisture on her belly and breasts. Confused and with a head filled with images - flitting, lingering remnants of dreams, she felt overwhelmed by the power of her arousal and the unfamiliar scenes that played in her mind. Lips, Clara’s plump pink lips. Grey diamond eyes, dilated, and moist with emotion. Long flowing ash blond hair, so soft, like silk brushing on neck and cheek. And breath hot and cool, scented from Clara. Sweet, almost like liquid, so real now in memory re-tasted.
http://amzn.to/kyWZkW

The bus lurched forward after a loud protest from the transmission. “If you can’t find ‘em, grind ‘em!” someone shouted amid laughter and conversational chaos.

Jenni barely managed to keep her head from banging on the seat in front of her. Man, I hate the bus, she thought.

“Good catch,” Sara Wilson said, giggling next to her.

Jenni laughed in return and gave her best friend a playful punch in the shoulder.

Morning sunlight warmed her face, and Jenni heard birds even over the din inside the bus. Green and full trees lined the streets near the school and the smell of freshly cut grass mingled with diesel fumes. They had less than a month left of eighth grade and everyone was primed for summer vacation.

From my horror novella "Death Metal"...

An hour into his book signing, young adult fantasy author Daniel Cahill had found his groove. His Philadelphia faithful had made another book release a success, the line of children, teens and adults stretching around Miller's Book Emporium and into the parking lot of Dunkin Donuts.
"Can I get you anything, Mister Cahill?" Lon Miller, the owner asked between fans taking pictures with Daniel.
"Lon, this is my fifth signing with you. When will you call me Daniel?"
Lon Miller laughed. "Sorry, Mister - Daniel. Would you like some coffee?"
"It's the only vice I have left," Daniel said with a wink.

Death Metal

'The Taint: Octavia'
Sol, messenger of the Thirteen Elder Gods, rode the wind’s warm thermals. He flew over the sapphire-blue waters of the Aeacus Sea, his sculptured limbs glowing radiant and golden, and his immense white wings caressing the breeze. Guided by chance, blown by fortuitous winds, the young God arrived at the Isle of Tinne.
A white castle stood high on the crest of a hill. Silver banners hung from the high ramparts, shimmering in the breeze. Framed within a tower’s arched window, a young woman stood looking down at the teeming life below. Her long, light brown hair flowed loose upon her shoulders, catching and reflecting the morning light. A beautiful, bewitching beacon...

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/...

‘Princess! Princess, you must come away from the window!’
Julianna ignored the warning and remained where she stood, staring out of the big, arched lead-lined window.
Bright orange flashes lit up the night sky, momentarily illuminating the city. Explosions erupted in streets and houses, sending rubble and thick clouds of smoke high into the air, and cloaking the city in a noxious cloud.
Above, sudden white flashes lit up the clouds from the inside, a succession of quick flashes, almost like lightning. Seconds later, more explosions tore through the city ...

Irene wrote: "First 100 words of From Light to Dark:

Getting stoned to death wasn’t the worst thing that could happen—or so Eref told himself when the first rock cracked over his head.
But it hurt. Blood trickl..."

Great Opening!!

Jess Whitelaw battled with the Toyota Land Cruiser as it jounced over the rutted dirt road. She chanted a few Oms to calm herself, her voice warbling as the vehicle juddered and bounced over the track. In the distance a plume of red dust shimmered, like a thumb smudge on the dazzling sky. That must be Joey Evans coming out to meet her at the Marinka Mine, where her past lay snoozing in the shade, one ear cocked, ready to leap up and savage her on arrival.
Red dust. Red is the colour of Australia. Red the earth, red the sun, red the rocks.
THE LAND BEYOND GOODBYE

I’d made up my mind: The tall guy with the dark brown hair was an idiot.
Our history lesson was about to start and Seth (the idiot in question and, unfortunately, also my twin) was leaning over Amber Scott’s desk and looking at her longingly as she texted on her phone. Occasionally she batted her eyelids in his direction and I was sure that if I got closer I would see drool leaking from the corner of his idiotic mouth.
As our teacher, Mr. Dawson came into the room, Amber leaned up and (still texting) whispered something into Seth’s ear.
Demon's Daughter

Ruined City

I am free, free to extract my blood price, my vengeance...

A light snow is falling as I wind through the cobblestone streets to the Palace. I look around, amazed at the size of this city, the extent of its structures and walls, the commotion of people. The scurry of their lives almost stirs pity in me, but I have set on a course and I will not stray. Not for these poor souls, nor to preserve this magnificence of Elowen. I will not be denied my revenge, no our revenge.

Dawn broke across the eastern sky. Sun, cooled during the long night beneath the shadow of her sister Moon, stirred from her slumber in the Middle Kingdom as she stretched and yawned above the rugged hills far to the north of Mandalay.

The Irrawaddy River, starting as nothing more than a sliver of light as it descended from the mountains where the Himalayan waters of the Mali and Nmai rivers had mated long ago expanded ever southwards, carrying its message forward, bringing life and harvests to the land, nourishing the fields of beans and rice and sugarcane scattered among the villages below.

Peter woke suddenly and bolted upright with a cry. It stuck in his throat becoming more of a strangled groan than anything else but it was still loud enough to wake his wife.

Pranee turned over in her sleep and reached for his arm.

“Peter?”

“It’s ok.” he replied his eyes open wide. He was fully awake now. “Just a dream, Nid.” He replied, using her Thai pet name to reassure her.

“Sure?” she asked sleepily, pulling closer to his naked body and touching him gently beneath the sheets. “You ok? Same dream again?”

Zau Tu stepped carefully through the doorway, bending down so as not to strike his head against the low, wooden frame. It was dark inside the house and the place smelt strongly of tobacco and betel nut.

The man he had followed from the marketplace motioned to him to follow then disappeared into the shadows. He waited a few moments as his eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room.

Following the directions the cowherd had given him earlier in the day, the young man had found his way to the market without much trouble.

THE WILD HUNT

~Imaginary~


When I was a little girl, I had an imaginary friend. Jillie was my silent companion when I played dress up and pretended to sip tea. Every day Jillie walked silently beside me to the school bus. At the end of the day she listened while I whispered my secrets. Jillie was the best friend I had for most of my childhood. After my sixth birthday my father decided I was too old for imaginary friends. He told me my friend wasn’t real, and that no one could see her.

For two years my father punished me every time I played with my invisible friend. Through his punishments I learned my first lesson in defiance. I grew proud of the marks that lined my skin. Each one was a snub in my father’s direction. Sure they hurt, especially when he used the belt, but every welt was a helpful reminder of my father’s true face.

One day my mother begged me to forget about Jillie, and never mention her again. The funny thing is my mother looked at my imaginary friend. Not in some small way of pacifying me either. Her pale green eyes scanned Jillie’s blood splattered dress and dirty knees, and smiled with understanding. Like she too once had an imaginary friend. I still see Jillie sometimes. A childhood ailment I never outgrew. But the little girl who was my imaginary friend, was never really imaginary, Jillie was……is…… a ghost.

Here are the First 100 Words of my FanFiction work entitled I Am Number Four: The Lost Files: Sarah's Journal.
(This is based on the original novels I Am Number Four and The Power of Six by Pittacus Lore.


CHAPTER ONE

We engage in one last kiss. There’s so much going through my mind it’s difficult to process it all. So much has happened, and yet so much more is ahead. But right now, it’s time for John to leave; it’s not safe for him to stay any longer. I know this is the best thing to do despite how much it pains me to admit it. His warm embrace feels so good; I don’t want to let go. Ever. I wish I could take a photograph of this moment not only of the vivid details of how everything looks, but....

(sorry, that's 100 words.)

The Speed of Dark

Rufus Cobb was having one of those days.
You know … one of those days.
You know the ones, the sort of day where you just want to go home and be cruel to a small animal.
One of those days, where no matter how tightly you button up your collar, the rain still manages to get down your neck. That’s what was happening to Cobb now. He was wandering around Spitalfields market getting damper and damper.
And what is more, his boots were hurting him. He was breaking in a new pair of boots and they were still ...

Tony wrote: "The Speed of Dark

Rufus Cobb was having one of those days.
You know … one of those days.
You know the ones, the sort of day where you just want to go home and be cruel to a small a..."

Looks great, Tony! I have your Omnibus in my smashwords library ready to read when I get the chance (a lot of writing to do first).

Georgina.

I.O.U. Sex on Amazon

March 20, 1965—A perfect 18th birthday with my perfect boyfriend. He gave me a single pearl on a gold chain. Drove to Kiest Park and ♥ ♥ ♥. I love him so. I’d do anything for him, except do IT, but it’s soooo tempting!!!

June flipped the diary face down on the coffee table to mark her place and smiled at her two best friends. She was glad she’d kept the book. Kiki and Peggy had lived those high school days with her, and they treasured her diary as a priceless record of their teenaged years,....

A dark, dingy corridor of ancient steel marked a confining tunnel that disappeared into blackness. Its arched ceiling was trimmed with corroded castings, and here and there, mounds of rust stood as tombstones to what were once ornate adornments. Its battered walls were encrusted with large flakes of brownish-orange rust and occasionally marred by dark weeping stains from perpetual moisture. Decay from the ancient steel had settled to the floor over the eons and formed a thick carpet of corrosion, fungus, and fine bits of deteriorated metal.

The passage was choked with a rotting stench masked only by damp mildew and a faint hint of human sweat. Footprints of the wayward and dammed were scattered across the fine debris on the floor and a human skeleton lay silently among them. Like all remains, it had been stripped of any clothing or possessions long ago.


The Simulator

Gabriel sips from the ornate cup, the familiar taste of blood awakening his taste buds. It is nearly time. The hairs on the back of his neck and arms stand up as the air in the room turns electric. Heat emanates from the cup in his hands, growing until his palms sting. He swallows the pain along with the blood. He will not let go. Not when he is so close.

Blood still sputters from the lamb carcass on the table before him. Gabriel wishes he had time to find a human sacrifice, but he knows his time is short.

I sit up, eyes slowly adjusting to the dark and it’s happened again. I’m not in my flat, I’m in a tiny ‘V’ shaped room and I have no idea where I am. This has
http://www.goodreads.com/book/show/13...

been happening a lot lately. Not waking up in ‘V’ shaped rooms, but waking up in strange paces. Other people’s houses, sheds, toilets where a tramp has used my trouser leg to wipe his ass, a brick factory, a wheelie bin. I’m a bit like Sam Beckett from that TV show ‘Quantum Leap’ where he time travels and has to work out who he is. I’m like the real life, low-rent scum version. Unlike Sam, I don’t actually travel through time. I just drink till I pass out…

It’s 1:45 in the morning and I’m having trouble sleeping again. Vivid scenes from August play unbidden through my mind on an endless loop.

I abandon the effort to sleep and get out of bed to retrieve my robe from the bathroom hook, stopping for a moment to search out the window and into the darkness. I stand motionless watching the night, listening, waiting, hoping. I see only our still front yard and its massive oak tree, the early autumn colors illuminated by the porch light. I hear nothing.

I do a quick calculation in my head. Seven weeks. Almost to the day. Since Annie died.

From Dancing in Heaven – a sister's memoir.
http://randomthoughtsfrommidlife.word...

Medusa: A Caitlin McHugh Mystery

It strikes me as being quite intriguing that — as you read this missive — you will know absolutely nothing about me. Oh, I am reasonably certain that you wholeheartedly will imagine you do. But you must believe me when I tell you that your presuppositions will be as far from the truth as they might possibly be. Your powers of judgment will have been skewed by the media, as you eagerly have sat at their table, gluttonously filling your maw with their overblown distortions and fantasies. With such a foundation for your so-called “knowledge,” how could you possess anything other than misinformation?

“Full house,” Kennet commented as he peered out past the curtain.

“Not surprised,” Corwin said laconically as his brother joined them in the middle of the stage.

“This will be our best concert ever,” Kyl told the others. “I can feel it.”

“So can I,” Neeve said. She looked around at her brothers, taking in this moment – the four of them filled with the nervous anticipation that always seized them just before the curtain went up – and suddenly went still. The world around her darkened, fading away. She was nine years old again, seeing her brothers as they had been then…

My eyes snapped open as I woke up abruptly. For a moment, I panicked as I tried to recall where I was, the time of day, and what I had been doing before I fell asleep. I couldn’t remember what I’d been dreaming about specifically, though I had a pretty good idea.
I rubbed my eyes wearily, the rushing in my ears subsiding. Once I could hear again, I began the return journey to my current reality. It was my college graduation day and I would be the youngest student in three generations to graduate with a degree from the...

Stephanie Keyes

The Star Child
The Star Child

http://www.amazon.com/The-Star-Child-...

OF GOOD AND EVIL

They were all dead; except for one.

Ron grimaced. "Not again!"

Staying low and zigzagging in a quick pattern, Ron hastened over to Lieutenant Uebelacker. He was the last man on his team still alive; barely.

Mortally wounded, Uebelacker was lying motionless on the ground. His blackened face and military garb were soaked in patches of blood.

"Wh...where did they all come from?" Uebelacker attempted to focus in spite of his pain. His eyes were half closed, and his breathing was labored.

"Hush, Lieutenant," Ron said, kneeling over him. "I'm getting you out of here."

http://geraldggriffin.blogspot.com

Malcolm raced toward the end of the hallway; He had to get to that back exit. If he remembered correctly, it was down the hall and to the right. Maybe if he ran fast enough his pursuer wouldn’t realize what direction he’d gone in and he might be able to escape. Tonight the hallway felt longer than he remembered; he felt like he’d never get to the end. He ran endlessly, but the corner seemed to be getting further away. Suddenly, the scene around him changed and he was in a room full of boxes.

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B006HMJQQ4

http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/...
.

"The Baby" - science fiction short story

Ellie lay in the bed and would not open her eyes.
Once she opened her eyes, it would all begin. She would see the baby, and he would look like her lost Daniel. Daniel as a baby, of course. And she would have Daniel again, as long as they both should live. And she would never have Daniel again, as long as she lived.

She listened, but heard no breathing. There were so many other sounds -- buzzes and hums of equipment, tinny music, wheels of carts, footsteps. A baby's breathing would be too quiet. But should she be hearing . .