urban-fantasy

I__ more than twisted. I__ the worst kind of vampire_ But you__e the one who__ craving me, so what does that make you?

When he kisses me again, the last part of me that could stand myself dies.

If I couldn't be a good example, I'd just have to be a horrible warning.

Maybe I needed sensitivity training. I once signed up for an anger management class, but the instructor pissed me off.

That took balls.""Please," I said with a snort, "that took ovaries. Of which I have two.

I figured even the most jaded and cynical inhabitant might report a bloody girl in a party dress carrying a severed head by its hair.

Philip obliged, opening his left hand, palm upwards, and forcing his energy into the creation of an orb of light, formed, tangible, and alive. The small suns Philip could create out of nothing, were miniatures of the original, with molten plasma lying almost invisible at their cores, obscured by the bright rays of light emitted from them, making them seem harmless.

Dear Lynda Carter, Please be with me in my hour of need. Especially if I don't have to twirl around to get my powers.

Was James bipolar?__he tears returned, and I watched her battle them. __e don__ use that word in our family.__ stared at her for a moment. __hy not?___um and Dad don__ believe in it._ She kept walking. __ames was always _ troubled. But there was nothing wrong with him, nothing more than anyone else anyway, everyone feels a bit down sometimes.___livia! It was more than feeling down.__he laughed, bitterly. __ know, Dee, fuck, do I know that. I__ just telling you how it goes. The party line__hat we told people when they asked.

I swore as the knife I__ been using to dice our dinner bit into my finger. I dropped it on the floor, blood spattering the counter and cupboard doors a furious red. I watched, mesmerised, as the blood welled up and began to seep down my hand; I tried to catalogue the amount of pain I was in. Surprisingly little, I concluded, pushing at the edges of the wound to see how deep it went. Deep enough. I was starting to feel it now, but it didn__ hurt so much. I__ endured far worse.If it came to it, I could do it. There was comfort in that knowledge.

Death begins before birth. I have always found this an odd notion, but were it not for the death of certain cells during our initial development, humans would be born with webbed toes. Death moulds our physical being from the very start of our existence. It sculpts us, determines how we begin, and where we end. The events in life that define us, that break us and remake us, all stem from death__he death of a place, a time, a relationship, of those we hold most dear, and finally ourselves. Death is the one inescapable aspect of life, the only immutable force, the single thing in this world that cannot and should not be changed.But death is never the end.It is the beginning.

James had taken his own life, but the need to do so was not something easily explained. He had the life he wanted: money, a home, a job, a wife, a good friend. I__ known people who died at their own hand because life became unbearable, or because something happened, something terrible. That wasn__ so for James__here was something inside him, something a part of him, something over which he had no control, but which had absolute control over him.

It was a fact that had become the focus of my entire life, a whisper in my heartbeat, a permanent, insidious presence that punctuated my every breath. I couldn__ escape it, that persistent voice, lingering in the blood pulsing through my veins. It said only one thing, over and over, a repetition of inescapable anguish, the knowledge of a thing that could never be undone.James is dead. James is dead. James is dead. James is dead.

I promise if you come to my car I won't cuff you unless..." his voice dropped in a sensuous tone, "...that's what you want.

Kissing her wasn't just a kiss. It was a full-body, mid-altering experience.

Pray to whatever you believe in that they don't send the snakes.

It sucks. I think you'd make a pretty snake woman, but I'm not really into that kind of girl. Those pointy teeth and slitted nose. Their mindless need to kill..." He shuddered.

Telling someone like my mother that Hell is a real, physical place, somewhere you can travel to and from, would be like spray-painting the statue of Jesus hanging over the pulpit during mass. Better off telling her the Pope is gay.