Showing posts from October, 2011


“Good morning, ma’am,” Hiro said as she entered the command room. She raised an eyebrow questioning the likelihood of that. He smiled and placed her favorite mug in her hands filled to the brim with steaming hot coffee.

She sighed enjoying the aroma. Out of all the people on Lunar Outpost Lobos, Hiro was her favorite to work with. When she showed up in the morning the command center was well organized and running along without a hitch. She never worried when he had the watch. And he made coffee. Good coffee at that.

“Anything, I need to know?” She asked as she walked over to the sliding doors that separated the command center from the “outside”. The lunar base was situated under a dome made out of a synthetic carbon lattice. It perfectly mimicked the hardness and clarity of diamond. She remembered standing on earth as it was being constructed. Whenever the sun’s light struck the dome it looked very much like the man in the moon was crying. One single crystalline tear.

Around the bas…


It had been so long he was not sure he would still know the way. But like most things that become habit, the body remembers long after the mind has consigned them to distant memory.

Through the center of the valley was a stream that laughed it’s way over rocks and boulders worn smooth from years of such treatment. The hills that rose on either side, thanks to this stream, would stay lush and green long after the rest of the country had been baked to harsh aridity.

He paused to drink the cool water, enjoying the clean crisp taste.

He could hear them chanting, even from this great distance. The corner of his mouth curled up in an approximation of a smile. He stood, stretched and then began to run towards the voices. Increasing his speed he traveled up the lichen painted stone steps that wound up from the valley floor.

He felt the music long before he heard it, a deep thrumming in his core. The drums kept a steady rhythm that his heart heard and threatened to answer. At the edge of t…

Immortal Beloved

He stood at the window watching the bustling of the city below. The clop of the carriage horses, the buzzing of the voices of hundreds of people playing a deep harmony to the muttering of the river beyond.

Or at least that is what he presumed it sounded like. What he remembered it to sound like. With an inarticulate growl he threw the glass against the wall. Watching in satisfaction as the fine crystal shattered into a thousand pieces. A crimson drop stained his white shirt when a shard laid open a small cut on his cheek.

He cursed, his fingers going to the cut. His words lost to the quiet void of his world. It had not always been so.

A slight movement caught his attention. The lifting of the curtains on the breeze. But then the window was not open. Inexplicably, there she stood. The only door to the room was behind him, she had not entered there.

Her gown flowed behind her as she walked, sheerest white. A few shades paler than her hair that seemed to have been kissed by the moon.…

Succubus Kiss

He lay upon the bed. His frail chest rising and falling rapidly. It seemed strange to me that a man who had been responsible for taking so many lives would soon loose his.

On his nightstand sat a book. Malleus Maleficarum. “The Hammer of the Witches.”

The light of the moon shown in through the window placed high on the wall. I crossed my legs, the buckle on my shoe caught that cold light and gave it back.

That I loved him was never the question. That he loved me was also never cause for doubt. That he had me tried for witchcraft and summarily executed was equally factual. That I died. Well, therein lay the crux of our story.

I rose from the old rocker that had seen a constant presence for the past several months. It amused me to think what their reaction would be to find me sitting there. “They would likely use it for kindling. Throw it into the hungry flames just as I had been,” I said aloud not caring who heard, if anyone should care to hear.

“Wake up, Heinrich, ” I whisper…

A Nice Pair of Shoes

“I am getting mud all over my Jimmy Choo’s!”

“Then why are you wearing them?” Becky asked as we made our way through the darkened graveyard.

“Because they look cute with my outfit.” Lisa replied.

“Becky, why are we here?” I asked weaving between the branches of the pine trees. They grew like sentinels along the wrought-iron fence that marched around the perimeter of the cemetery. The white fire of the moon barely penetrated their dense growth offering us glimpses of a trail that was meant to be trod by day.

“It’s All Hallows Eve,” she said punctuating her words with a wave of her fairy wand. Her fake fairy wings brushed against me, shedding glitter. I sighed, I would never get all that glitter off.

“Becky, if you start with that “tonight is the night that the walls between the worlds grow thin” nonsense I am going to hit you with my matching Jimmy Choo bag.”

“Cute bag, by the way,” I said.

“I know!” Lisa squealed. “And I got it on sale,” she whispered conspiratorially. She was d…

Relic Hunter Chronicles

This is chapter 1 of a new work I have started. It is about a woman named Giovanna Scarletti who is a tactile empath. She is recruited by the Vatican to locate missing relics. It is a work in progress and unedited. I hope you enjoy.

Chapter 1

I was nine years old when my “gift” was discovered. I was attending mass with my mother. I remember sitting there listening to the priest drone on in Latin. Everyone around me lowered their heads in the quiet repose of worship. My mother’s lace covered hand grabbed my knee, a her signal to stop swinging my feet.

There was nothing extraordinary about that day. In fact, it was like any other. The sunrise that had given birth to it would do so again the next. That day would blend seamlessly with another one all coalescing in a lifetime of similar days.

But for me that seamless tapestry of days would end. Nothing would ever be the same again. I still have not decided if that is a good thing or not. If nothing else I have learned to accept it.