I am an aspiring author inspired by Anne Rice, Dean Koontz, and Stephen King. I write bold, imaginative fiction that explores love, humanity, and diverse worlds. You don’t know me yet, but you will.
I am an aspiring author inspired by Anne Rice, Dean Koontz, and Stephen King. I write bold, imaginative fiction that explores love, humanity, and diverse worlds. You don’t know me yet, but you will.
Eddie Daniels had been in a lot of tight spots in his life — from being trapped in bedroom closets, chased through alleys, dangling off fire escapes and even once locked inside the trunk of a Prius. But none of those compared to being hunched behind a couch, trying not to sneeze while a security guard strolled too close for comfort.
This was not part of the plan. Eddie did his best to pinch his nose while uttering a silent curse. Estate jobs were supposed to be easy. No one alive, just an empty house full of goods and maybe a padlocked gate or two.
So why the hell was there a security guard pacing the living room?
He checked his watch. Midnight. “Fuck”, Eddie muttered.
His window of opportunity was shrinking. It was time to get this show on the road and with that Eddie adjusted the strap of his backpack, stayed as low as possible and slowly made his way toward the study.
Books. That’s why he was here. He didn’t know much about the late owner of the home — his lackluster research rendered little info but based on its condition they had clearly been a recluse with a taste for rare first editions. Eddie had a fence who has been salivating at the thought of what could be in this library.
“In and out, Eddie,” he whispered to himself. “Quick and clean.”
After a few tense moments, he slipped into the study, it was a darkened room lined with shelves. The study was larger than he expected, and the air carried that familiar thick scent of leather and old paper. Eddie grinned to himself.
Jackpot.
He moved quickly, his eyes scanning the titles: Frankenstein. The Time Traveler’s Wife. A first-edition Bram Stoker’s Dracula. He ran his fingers along the spines, pulling books carefully, checking their conditions. Most of them were worth a fortune, but Eddie knew better than to take too many at once. You never emptied the shelves. Too suspicious.
He did another quick once over of the room and that’s when he saw it.
A single book sitting on a desk, seemingly away from the others. Its cover was plain, worn and cracked, the leather dark and unmarked — it had clearly seen better days. He took a closer look, it didn’t have a title or author, it was just strange and there was something about it that gave Eddie pause.
“Hmm what are you?” he whispered.
The book was also heavier than it looked, Eddie thumbed through the pages half expecting to see handwritten notes or an author’s signature, but the pages were completely blank.
Weird. Eddie thumbed through the pages one more time, just to be sure. “What the hell” he muttered. Blank. Every page.
Eddie considered leaving the book behind, but curiosity got the better of him and with a swift move he slipped it into his bag. With that he quickly made his way back toward the window he’d come through, just as the guard entered the room.
Luck might finally be on his side, Eddie thought.
This is the first chapter of a serialized short story that is a one par/story within an anthology. To read the rest of the chapters head over to my Substack! https://almarquis.substack.com
I didn’t bring you roses, The florists had already closed And chocolates? Well - I ate them on the way home
There isn’t a candlelit dinner waiting, Only the glow of the microwave, Heating up a box of leftovers we half ate from the other day
I’m not serenading you under the moonlight - It’s hard to sing on key Especially when you are yelling about the trash bins I refused to empty
I didn’t write you a love letter, Not even a card you will see But I did scribble “Buy eggs” on the back of a receipt So that’s basically poetry
This is love, isn’t it? I mean - I remembered eventually So I said Happy Anniversary Because it’s about forgetting the date, But never forgetting the memories
I hoped for you … The fool and folly of happy every after promised to me seemed less childish then… I wished for you … And no star fell to answer my request … I searched for you … And lost myself in bitter darkness … Woke to shadows of you lying next to me … Whispered lies so my heart would not know differently … I’ve built my dreams on your silence … Now, I wait for you … And time itself seems to mock me … Impostors wearing your face con me … My heart laughs at me … And you still hide from me … I love you … But you’re why I no longer believe in fairy tales…
Have you ever heard of the flower that grew in the dark? Removed from the light and left to fall apart Uprooted, replanted and suspended in time Left to thrive where others have died Have you ever heard of the flower that grew in the dark?
Thought to be weak yet was strong at heart Pressed down by the canopy with no view Cultivating its will to breakthrough Have you ever heard of the flower that grew in the dark?
Petals unwithered, strengthened and bold Seen as a threat that could easily overgrow Seeking out the light through slithers of warmth Have you ever heard of the flower that grew in the dark?
One day at a time, it grew and grew Stretching and reaching unseen by you Roots buried deep within the dirt, grasping on even when it hurt Have you ever heard of the flower that grew in the dark?
How much further to the top can it be Every day felt like an eternity With the darkness being its only friend, Something brave grew from within Have you ever heard of the flower that grew in the dark?
Trampled by boots and left in the fray A newfound strength to guide its way No more darkness, only light, it was time to rise up and take its full height Have you ever heard of the flower that grew in the dark?
If you haven’t, trust me you have, just look around Because we are that rare flower that they tried to drown But water is food for a flower-like us It only dampened the ground, that lifted us up Have you ever heard of the flower that grew in the dark?
Yes, you have It’s me It’s you We blossomed in the dark And now there is nothing we fear Not fate and not even you
