Joyce relaxed into her seat in the crowded room. It was so good to get sometime to her self and leave the dig behind. The last couple of months had been a constant battle against time and the construction crews. The auctioneer appeared and the murmur in the saleroom fell to a polite whispering. Joyce
Laura Jean Anderson turned the key, trying again to restart her car. “Damn” she mumbled. The engine wouldn’t turn over…and if she tried it again, she’d chance draining the battery. Laura sat there trying to figure out what she should do… What she really felt like doing was crying, but she didn’t. Laura estimated that
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
The man slipped his cigarette out the narrowly-opened driver’s side window and hurriedly cranked it closed, crudely cursing the torrential rain outpacing the frantic windshield wipers. His daughter sulked moodily against the far door, curled into a limber knot. Her finger sketched a pattern on the fogged glass that had meaning only to her. “Give
The Ancient One had been existing in the run down house for almost a year, having arrived from Romania. With the help of his insane assistant, Gunther, and his two undead brides, he had come here to make a fresh start and find refuge from the old world. The local authorities were asking too many