When she was little, when her mother was still alive and breathing and her father still told her bedtime stories about little princesses and kissed her goodnight, she often thought about unicorns, and at night, in dreams, she tried to conjure them, but they would always appear misshapen or deformed, with a chicken’s foot instead
Margaret Wallace was your average, everyday housewife. She was born and raised in Queens, NY. She got married right out of high school at the age of 19 to her high school sweetheart, David. They were perfect for each other. They actually waited until their wedding night before they had sex. They were two young
“I can take you to the place you seek,” the Arab girl whispered. Professor Montana Smith eyed her skeptically. It was hard to judge if she was lying, as all he could see of her face was the dark liquid pools of her eyes above that veil. Although he had been in the kingdom for
The city was dark that night, darker than hell. The rain clouds seemed thicker than ever before and there was the occasional rumble of distant thunder. My name is Andy and I am a writer but not one of good fortune. I had been having a hard time during those months. Several publishing companies had
It was crazy. Sure, he’d had a lech for Marilyn Ralston for a long time, but he’d never seriously contemplated doing anything about it. She and her husband lived in the same building as he and Laura, and they saw each other for drinks occasionally. So you get the hots for a neighbor, maybe in