Grace reached over and began stroking her fingers through my hair. I closed my eyes and let her drive me crazy.
I could have screamed, but I didn’t. I could have fought, but I didn’t. I just lay there and let it happen, watching the winter-white sky go gray above me.
Imagine my delight and awe when I discovered such a thing was a real genre – contemporary fantasy or urban fantasy. It was like having my birthday twice in one week and cookie dough for breakfast.
I’ve always loved reading fantasy. I used to pick out all the books in the library that had the little unicorn sticker on the side to show that they were fantasy.
Who need to read about real life when there’s dragons. Come on!
Kissing in front of the loveless is an act of cruelty.
I like to hear from my readers, and I like to feel like I’m part of a bigger community of readers and writers.
Listen to you sounding all badass. I bet you’re just listening to a CD called ‘The Sounds of Crime’ while you cruise for chicks outside the Old Navy in your Camaro.
I am not a huge fan of the one-sided pining romances where the guy is a perfect love-object because we don’t see inside his head.
Blue was awfully fond of her father, considering she’d never met him.
I was thinking lots of things, but most of them needed to stay thoughts, not words.
I’m so tired I never want to wake up again. But I’ve figured out now that it was never them that made me feel that way. It was just me, all along.
It wasn’t the sort of kiss I’d had with him before, hungry, wanting, desperate. It wasn’t the sort of kiss I’d had with anyone before. This kiss was so soft that it was like a memory of a kiss, so careful on my lips that it was like someone running his fingers along them.
My whole life, I had thought that my story was, again and again: Once upon a time, there was a boy, and he had to risk everything to keep what he loved. But really, the story was: Once upon a time, there was a boy, and his fear ate him alive.
Now, I was a fan of the simple pleasures in life: grilled cheese sandwiches without black flecks on the crust, jeans that didn’t pinch the better parts of me, an inch of vodka, ten to twelve hours of sleep. – Cole St Clair, Forever.
I am standing here in the shed, and I’m waiting to see if my seeds are going to poke out ofthe dirt. I don’t know if it’s too early to look for signs of life or if, this time, winter has claimed my family for good.
But love isn’t quantifiable on paper.
When the end comes, dark and hungry I’ll be alone, love When the end comes, black and starving I’ll say good-bye, love.-from Golden Tongue: The Poems of Steven Slaughter.
If the waitress comes, order me a coffee and something that involves bacon.
A frightening menagerie, my emotions are Too many and varied to number Like creatures they crawl and they fly above Tearing my body asunder.