Chapters
The streets of White Roaring grew fangs at night. When the moon dragged a claw and the shop fronts cut dim and those who craved blood walked bold. Arthie Casimir couldn’t be bothered. By the cold, by the dark, by the vampires.
Chapters
“Go away,” Autumn says when I knock. She sounds like she’s dying. “You okay?” I know what she’s going to say. “Yes. Go away.”
Chapters
Autumn is a terror to sleep beside. She talks, kicks, steals the covers, uses you as a pillow. The stories I could tell if I had anyone to tell them to.
Chapters
When Cassie reached home, she took Mr. Webber’s copy of The Count of Monte Cristo and found a space for it among the paperbacks on the bookcase at the end of her bed.
Chapters
In Kellner Books on the Upper East Side of New York City, a few minutes before his death, John Webber was reading The Count of Monte Cristo.
Fiction
For the next six months, Frankie wrote to her brother every Sunday after church. In return, she received funny letters about his life on board the ship and the antics of his fellow sailors.
Fiction
The walled and gated McGrath estate was a world unto itself, protected and private. On this twilit evening, the Tudor-style home’s mullioned windows glowed jewel-like amid the lush, landscaped grounds.