“Writing a novel is like driving a car at night. You can see only as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.” -E. L. Doctorow
“Writing a novel is like driving a car at night. You can see only as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.” -E. L. Doctorow
Wallace sat back on his knees and wiped the sweat off his brow, the smell of damp earth filling his nose. He admired his work so far and thought with satisfaction about how he really did have the most beautiful flower garden in the neighborhood.
Picking up his hand trowel, he starts to dig a small hole to transplant his daises when his spade clinks on something golden and shiny. Sometimes he com...
The car tires screech and slam to a halt with a crunch, and the world is thrown into slow motion as the two vehicles collide. Brenda blinks awake to the sound of voices and sirens and is vaguely aware of being in motion but not moving her body. Mechanical beeps fill the air when they wheel her into the bright white hallway of the hospital, as she fades in and out of consciousness.
“Secure code ...
My smooth-skinned lover boy with his fluffy red beard and classically handsome head of hair. His eyes crinkle at the edges when he smiles at me, making my heart skip a beat. He has the most charming smile framed with irresistibly plump lips and eyes that see right through me, almost like he knows me better than I know myself.
I cup his perfect face in my hands and my smile meets his before we pr...
The chatter coming from the drawing room piqued Claire’s interest. She crept down the stairs to listen outside the door and heard her uncle Fred’s signature exasperated sigh, which she knew went along with an eye roll.
“Its not FAIR,” whined Abigail, Claire’s younger sister. “Claire gets a blue riding habit but blue matches MY complexion best!”
Oh no. Not this again. Abigail could get bored in...
The grayed white t shirt hangs off his shoulder, revealing a prominent collar bone. He crouches in the shadows across the street from a fruit cart and takes a deep breath, scanning the crowd. Then he sees it. The signal from his best friend Thorne indicating that the fruit man is occupied with a customer. Nobody notices the small boy dart across the street and skillfully pluck two pears from a cra...