by Lonnie Martin
From ad man to rock band, Jason Headley has always found himself doing the unexpected, but no role he’s played has been as exciting to him as that of soon-to-be published author. On October 1, his debut novel, Small Town Odds, is released nationwide.
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by Gabriella Herkert
There are so many cool ways to knock people off. You have to have a natural bent toward the dark side, of course, but the methodology appeals to the airier, more creative brain cells. Since I didn’t want to get famous under the heading stupid criminals, I knew I’d have to carefully resolve forensic issues behind whatever technique I chose. Poisoning appealed to me.
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by Lonnie Martin
This is where I am from, the place of my father’s birth. It sits on the edge of a valley, surrounded by mountains older than the generations that have lived and died in a land claimed as their own. I was not born here, nor was I conceived here, nor did I grow up here. I did not take my first steps on the ground of this place. I did not first speak in this air. My first swim, first kiss, first mistake all took place far from here, yet everything I am began in this place.
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by D. Susan Rutz
The carpet was soft under Claire’s bare feet. With each step she pushed her toes into the fibers, and hurried, although she was not sure why the need to hurry. It is merely the phone ringing that disturbs sleep. Her large right toe slams into the chair leg, and pain shoots to the brain. Claire was trying to make it to the phone with closed eyes. Stumbling on tiptoes and bare carpet to cease that horrid racket invading her sleep and for a reward she stumped her toe on a solid, hard object.
Did I really deserve that?
As she reached for the phone, the noise ceased. She picked up the receiver anyway.
‘Hello? Hello?’
Why? Why is this happening to me? I just want to sleep. Is that really too much to ask? Just to rest my weary body in a soft bed, folded by clean crisp sheets and a warm blanket of quilting?