Fiction Sample One

My back is pressed against the cool earth as I watch the curls of smoke drift from my mouth into the twilight sky. The scene is painted with a spray of stars against a cloudless night. I roll my back far enough that I can see the name engraved on the granite tombstone behind me. Vernon Stenson, beloved father, and husband. 

“Whaddaya think, Vern? Another hour? Maybe two?” I check the hands on the vintage timepiece I wear around my wrist, noting that I only have about another forty-five minutes until the sun will peek over the mountains to wake the city to a new day. There are two times in a standard day that are regarded as “magic hour”. One at dawn, and another at dusk. Right when the sun sits low in the sky, bathing the earth in soft light. It’s the best time to capture photos and this is one that I’ve been excited to add to my portfolio for a while. 

Jefferson Cemetery is one of twelve in the area and one of eight with standing headstones. This cemetery has caught my attention specifically because of the old stone headstones that are crumbling from years of neglect. It tells a story of love and loss. A story of time as it glides into infinite sadness. A story I can’t wait to capture on film. In the digital age, these stories will never crumble into soot beneath our feet. They’ll honor these lives forever. 

Some might say that what I do is macabre. They would be right, of course. I deal in the art of death– framing moments that show the passage of time, the sorrow of loss, and the ecstasy of grief. Funeral flowers, cemeteries, caskets, and portraits of the aggrieved. You’ll never see anyone so honest as one that is saying goodbye to someone they hold dear. All pretenses are dropped in those moments. A raw acceptance of the nature of life that we try to pretend doesn’t exist in our cozy comfortable life. People find it dark, or uncomfortable. I find it beautiful, and natural. The most natural thing in this world, at that. 

I snuff out my cigarette in my portable ashtray before pressing my teeth into the filter of another Marlboro Red and pulling it from the soft pack, giving the filter a light tap against the sole of my boot. 

Chain smoking is unattractive, or at least that is what my foster-mother Janice says. I don’t care much for appearances, though. I’ve been looking for the fastest ride out for most of my life. I’ve lived fast and loose, which probably has a lot to do with my upbringing.

All that, though, is about to be the past. I have a scholarship to an arts program in New York that I can’t wait to go to in the fall. I just have this last week of school to get through and then I’m out. Janice was kind enough to remind me that I have somewhere to stay with her until I’m ready to leave for school. She doesn’t have to do that and most foster parents would kick me to the curb as soon as the payments from the city dried up. She’s the real deal, though. Despite her multiple efforts to “save me,” and “help me find Jesus,” over the last few years, she’s a good person. 

Pressing my palms into the dewy lawn, I push myself up into a sitting position before beginning to fiddle with the settings on my Canon. I packed both my digital as well as a vintage Mamiya film camera. Digital is amazing and convenient, but there’s something pure about the way film captures the world around us. It’s something that technology will never be able to reproduce. Much like human emotion. 

A buzzing beside me draws my attention to my phone as the screen lights up green with an alert of an incoming message. My brows pinch together in concern. I have no idea who would be texting me at five in the morning on a Sunday. I swipe my phone in an S pattern, unlocking the screen to find a text from Grey. 

Where did you go last night?

I snort. The last time I saw Greyson he was buried in some strange on the sofa of one of our frequent party pads. The kind of place where you don’t want to sit on the sofa for fear that something diseased will stick to the back pockets of your jeans. Everyone was drunk as usual, but I wasn’t feeling it.  My mood was with my camera and the cemetery. It was with the here and the now. 

I caught a ride with Gage.

Immediately the three dots danced across the screen, alerting me to the fact that I was going to have an incoming diatribe about ditching his drunk ass in Madison’s shitty apartment, and he didn’t disappoint. 

You are a terrible wingman. I woke up next to some chick that looks like I found her at the bottom of a box of cracker jacks and I can’t find my pants. How am I supposed to get out of here?

I roll my eyes at the dramatics. Grey could put a teenage girl to shame with his frequent performances. He likes to pretend that I’m somehow responsible for him and his decisions. We’ve been friends for a lot of years but I stopped giving a care what Greyson did long ago. About the time he picked up a nasty pill habit he’ll do anything to feed. You can’t help someone that doesn’t want to be helped and is always too pleased to have someone to blame for their problems. Unfortunately that someone has been me one too many times. 

You have your phone. You’re perfectly capable of ordering an Uber

I drop the phone back onto the damp lawn, taking a last long drag off of my cigarette and blowing O’s into a sky that is starting to slowly lighten like the shallows of a bay. The color drifts from midnight blue to cerulean in the span of a few minutes. 

The sounds of songbirds begin to drift through the crisp morning air accenting the rustling of the ash trees when a gentle breeze dances through the leaves. I take a deep breath, letting the smell of the dawn assault my senses. 

You would think a cemetery might smell like death but there’s nothing quite like the scent of a dew-dusted cemetery in the early morning hours. It smells oddly alive, especially this time of year. Late May, as the springtime begins to amble toward the summer months, the remnants of tulips and daffodils decay against wet soil, giving way for the various colors of summer to shine through. It’s like a balm to the soul. 

Taking the hair tie that I always keep wrapped around my wrist, I throw my long violet locks up into a bun before pulling implements from my camera bag. I don’t need much on a morning like this. The light does all of the work, but I want to make sure I’m prepared to capture everything I can in those few perfect minutes granted to us by the gods.

“Alright, Vern. Let’s see what we got here,” I say to my neighbor of the moment, before crouching down to take a few test shots of the headstone that has withstood the test of time. It was the first one that I found that spoke to me. Old, but still legible, The grave sits beneath a large white statue of a praying angel, her wings resting on her back as she looks down to the beds of the deceased as though she’s been watching over them for centuries. 

I snap a few photos before the sun crests the horizon, bringing with it a delicate light that caresses the dips and divots in the stonework. It’s eerie in the most beautiful way. Haunted. Just like me. 

I sling my bag over my shoulder and begin crossing the cemetery, stopping to click photos of a few different graves. One with a large stone cross, and another with delicate rose engravings telling the story of a couple that died on the same day. That’s true love, right there. Together in eternity. 

I come upon a grave old enough that the name on it has been eroded by time. I can make out the first name of James, but the last name has been lost to the ravages of time. The most interesting thing about this particular gravestone is the fact that a bouquet of wilted white roses lays atop the settled earth. Usually, older graves don’t see as many visitors. Whether their friends and family have long since perished, or have moved on with their lives it’s hard to tell. But someone here is still looking out for James. Despite the condition of the stone, I can tell it’s been kept clean and cared for. Someone out there still loves James. I’ve never had anything like that. I’ll be relegated to a name on a stone that no one brings roses or lilies to. A name lost in the ether. A story of a girl gone wrong. 

Under a spread of cottonwoods in a far corner is a freshly filled grave. They haven’t covered it in sod yet, and it’s adorned in funeral flowers. I don’t know who is buried here, but they were obviously well-loved. Lilies, roses, and sprays of carnations cover the raw dirt. One of the ribbons says “son” in silver glittering script. I feel a twinge in my heart at the thought before sinking onto one knee and zooming in on the ornamentation of the fresh grave before clicking photos in both film and digital.

“Did you know, him?” A gruff voice rumbled from behind me, startling me. I hadn’t seen anyone around but it isn’t exactly a challenge to sneak up on someone in a graveyard. 

I answer the stranger without turning to acknowledge his presence. “No.”

“Seems odd that you’re taking photographs of the grave of someone you don’t know.” A hint of an accent lilts at the ends of his words. English? Perhaps Welch.

I click a couple more photos before rising to a standing position. I adjust the strap of my Canon over my shoulder before turning to face the stranger. “Seems odd that you’re approaching a random stranger in a cemetery. Did you know him?”

A smile teased the corner of his mouth before he responds. “No.

I raise an eyebrow, letting my eyes briefly drift down his masculine form. Despite the fact that it’s a warm day and I’m in leggings and a Siouxsie and the Banshees t-shirt, he’s wearing heavy jeans and a leather jacket. His five o'clock shadow might look out of place on someone else, but his gruff exterior and the hard set of his jaw suit it. His dark brown hair is perfectly touseled but his eyes are tired. He’s a man that’s seen some things. I can recognize that in him because that’s something that I have within myself. 

We stand at odds for a moment as I shift on my feet uncomfortably. His expression doesn’t waiver, considering me slowly. “Alright then. Good talk,” I say, turning on my heel and heading in another direction. 

“Bit sad, don’t ya think? Someone lost their son?”

I turn, to face him but continue taking steps backward in the direction I was originally heading. “Everyone is someone’s daughter or son. In the end, we’re all stardust. “

There’s a gleam in his eye at the mention of the Joni Mitchell quote, but he doesn’t respond, instead watching me as I turn back to walk in the opposite direction. I can feel his stare burning into my back with each step I take. A pang of warning blooms in my chest. I can’t quite tell what that warning means. Yet. 

Fiction Sample Two

Heading in a familiar direction up the Pacific Coast Highway, we eventually roll up to a turn-off that leads to a specific piece of property that has special memories for me. Memories that have me rubbing my thighs together desperately seeking friction at the thought. 

The mustang kicks up dust as we travel down what used to be a small dirt road but now is finished with black asphalt fresh enough that I can smell the tar as it bakes under the late spring sun. 

Coming around the turn, I spot the Pacific Ocean stretching endlessly into the distance, its effulgence somehow never fading with time. It doesn’t matter how many times you see the ocean. It never gets old. There’s just something about the sea that is magnificent. Timeless.

Lana Del Rey’s West Coast blares through the speakers filling the interior of Lexington’s cherry red car, setting the perfect background for the moment we’re currently sharing. 

Coasting around the final bend that reaches the property that Lexington owns, I find a structure looming over the area that was once only brush and dirt, causing my jaw to fall open at the sight.  The transformation of this stretch of land is so unexpected that I find myself lacking words for once in my life. 

Tractors and forklifts sit abandoned next to pallets full of construction materials. Lexington rolls to a stop right in front of what is well on its way to becoming a grand beautiful structure that I’m sure will have the all panache of its owner once it’s complete. 

Once I step outside of the car, I lean back against the glimmering red finish as Lexington comes around to my side, leaning back the same as I am. 

“What…is this? I mean, clearly, it’s going to be a home, but we were here only a couple of months ago and this was nothing but a barren stretch of land with a great beach.”

Lexington folds his arms and answers me without turning to face me, intentionally making it so I’m unable to discern his mood. “It seemed like such a waste though, didn’t it? Last time we were here I just realized that this space is somewhere to make memories. It shouldn’t sit here unused. And, with me graduating and you only having a year left, being in the heart of the city seems less and less important.”

A smile glides across my face at the passive use of us as a couple in the future. It still tickles me that we’re moving forward together in our lives. I couldn’t be happier. 

“Wanna see what's inside? I had the crew ditch out for the day so we could have the space to ourselves."

My body lights with excitement. “Absolutely.”

Taking a step forward, Lexington helps me walk across the uneven dirt in my chunky heels as we make our way toward the house and through the frame that will one day be the front door. Some of the walls are built in various stages. A couple of them have drywall. The scent of sawdust permeates the air causing my lashes to flutter; my eyes itching. 

“This will all be open concept,” Lex says, gesturing vaguely in front of us and to the sides, “living room, kitchen area. I do like the way the beach house is set up at home, but I’ve always wanted something more open. What do you think?”

This is his house that he’s building with his money, so the fact that he takes my thoughts into consideration makes me feel warm inside. “I love it. I think it’s going to be beautiful. Are you planning to make this your primary residence?”

Instead of an answer definitively one way or the other, a smirk pulls at his lips. “That remains to be seen. Let me show you upstairs.”

Taking my hand he pulls me behind him and around a partially constructed wall to wooden steps that have a rail haphazardly screwed to the side in the form of a two-by-four. I follow behind Lex as we make our way up to the second level, extremely aware of the fact that there is an entire third level above it that is halfway to being built. Jesus Christ. This is a hell of a structure. For the first time since I’ve met him, I wonder just how much money Lexington has tucked away in his rainy day fund. He’s not a big spender. He doesn’t have a bunch of expensive toys. But I’ve always assumed he was well off. Maybe not well off enough to pay for the construction of a home out of pocket, but comfortable. 

The entire west side of the second floor is cordoned off into a single space with a couple of small builds off to either side that are likely closets are bathrooms in progress. The west wall is open to what will be a balcony but now is just a bare platform, leaving a vast open space filled with a perfect view of the ocean. The open space allows the sea breeze to whip through bringing the scent of summertime with it. I can only imagine the view of the sunsets this spot will get. 

“Lexington, this is beautiful. Is this going to be your bedroom?” I ask, turning my eyes to him as his heavy footfalls come to a stop next to me, leaving us standing side by side as we take in the view of the ocean. 

“Our bedroom. Your name is on the deed as well as mine.”

Whipping my gaze to the side, I let my eyes search his face for any hint of disingenuity, but there is no indication of that. Instead, his smoky blue eyes appear earnest, and vulnerable. “Are you serious, Lex?”

He lets his eyebrows jump a couple of times at me while a smile plays at the corner of his lips, before coming behind me and wrapping his arms around my shoulders, pulling my back against his firm chest so we’re both gazing westward. “As a heart attack.”

I’m struck dumb for a moment, the breath in my body leaving on one exhale. “You’re building us a house? That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever seen.”

A moment of silence spreads between us before Lexington pulls one of his arms from our embrace, lifting his hand into my field of vision. Between his thumb and forefinger, he holds a gold bad housing a solitaire black diamond in the center. “How about now?”

Holy Crap. 

Before I can get an answer to his question past my lips he turns me to the side, getting down on one knee while my mind reels, struggling to catch up to what is unfolding before me. He takes my right hand in his left while holding the ring out with his opposite hand. 

“Gen, you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever met. I’ve never known someone as smart, genuine, and determined. I’m in awe of you every single day, and I want to be in awe of you every day for the rest of our lives together. I love you, so much. Will you marry me?”

My mouth hangs open, the sounds of the surf and seagulls filling the space, my body and mind still unable to catch up to exactly what’s happening right now. The honest desire there stirred me back to life. Slowly, a smile sneaks across my face as a single tear glides down my cheek. 

“Absolutely.”

Fiction Sample Three

The rest of the week passes, and it’s relatively uneventful. Cole is basically living in my house now, and Azrael is spending any free time here that he doesn’t spend at the bar. I’m starting to wonder where they even live. I can’t say that I mind. I’ve gotten used to the energy that pulls within me in their presence. I can even identify who I’m feeling now, which I’ve had a little fun with.

Today I find myself on the lawn past the garden in my backyard. The property stretches into a sea of oaks, and beyond the fence is a marsh, nearing The Mississippi. But we’re not back here for sightseeing. Cole has brought me back here to teach me to “protect myself.”

“Don’t you want to wear something easier to move in?” I say to Cole as I stretch my arms. I’m in a pair of yoga pants and a sports bra top. Cole, however, is in an Italian silk suit.

“If I were you I would worry more about yourself.” He quirks a brow at me with the slightest hint of a grin. The taunt lands as expected.

“Alright Jo, you may not have noticed, but you actually do have inherent abilities that others do not have, even without being here on the property. You’re faster. Stronger. And the longer you spend in New Orleans, the more your strength and speed will increase.”

I run in place, jumping a few times and stretching my neck. In the blink of an eye, Cole has me flat on my back, his forearm stretched across my chest. His eyes are playful. “One point for me.”

Indignation pulls my features. “No fair, you didn’t tell me we were even starting. You have to give me warning. And no vamp speed.”

He laughs, pushing himself back to his feet and extending a hand toward me, helping me up. I brush the lawn and dirt from my backside while Cole circles back around behind me.

“Ok, your stance is horrible.” He wraps his arms against my own from behind, moving them into a better position. “Your legs should be wider, for balance.” He kicks my feet so that they are positioned wider before stepping around the front of me running his eyes over my form.

“Is this better?”

“Hmm? Yes. Except bring your right elbow down.” He leans down picking up a pair of punching mitts and fitting them onto his hands.

“Scared of little old me, Cole? I thought you were like, super strong and impervious.” I tease.

Clapping the pads together a couple of times he quirks an eyebrow at me. “The pads aren’t for me, they’re for you. So you don’t bruise your delicate little lady hands against mine.”

The realization of our strength inequality settles over me at that statement. Of course, I knew that they were faster and stronger than I am. But I didn’t really consider how at their mercy I truly am. What if they weren’t on my side? I wouldn’t stand a chance. That’s the moment I decide that I am going to learn everything that Cole is willing to teach me. If I’m walking into a war, I best prepare for it.

After about an hour of kicking and punching, he showed me a few self-defense techniques. How to use leverage and the like. Then we took a walk around the perimeter. It’s been a while since I could claim that I had any sort of workout routine, and I’m feeling our previous training session in my muscles.

“If I have superpowers should I feel this exhausted?”

He laughed quietly with mirth. “You’re underdeveloped and you haven’t spent much time here. They’ll pick up. In the meantime, though, you’re going to feel it. You might want to take up Yoga or something on the side. Maybe an aerobics class.”

“An aerobics class? This isn’t nineteen-ninety, Cole.” I snort. “Can’t you just like, mind control me into thinking this sucks less than it does?” I almost wince at how whiney I sounded toward the end there. I was mostly kidding. Mostly.

Cole sinks his teeth into his bottom lip before shooting me a contrite look. “I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”

Was Azrael just messing with me? “Az said that was a thing you guys could do.”

He throws his gaze upward. “We can. But not with people that aren’t human. If you were a full God, no one would be able to at all. The only reason Azrael can is that you’ve had his blood.”

I stop dead in my tracks. “So if I had just gone to the emergency room instead of going to the bar, he wouldn’t be able to mind control me?”

His nostrils flare once before he takes a hard sniff. He doesn’t want to be having this conversation, I can feel it. “It’s complicated, Jo. But Azrael has made it very clear that no one else is to give you vampire blood unless your life is at stake.”

“My life wasn’t at stake when he did it. I could have easily gone to the hospital instead. Unbelievable!”

I turn and start stomping away from the pathway and back towards the mansion. Cole jogged to catch up with me.

“Jo, hold on. I’m sorry. It wasn’t really my place to have this conversation with you, but we’re having it now - so let’s have it.”

I stop my aggressive trek home and turn to him with my arms folded and a hip cocked to the side. He looks hesitant, and he should be. I lift an eyebrow. “Well, then?”

He clears his throat. “Look, Azrael just wanted to be able to protect you. It wasn’t some nefarious way to get you to do something you didn’t want to do. It helps to be able to influence you to the best course of action. Like the other night when I needed you to go upstairs instead of ruin Mimi’s spell.”

I push my tongue into my cheek and digest what he’s telling me. On one hand, I understand the point he’s trying to make. But, on the other….”He took my decision away. It wasn’t anyone’s decision to make whether or not I went upstairs but my own.” I look down, shaking my head. “Tell me more about the blood. What else can it do?”

“Obviously, you know it can heal you. It also heightens all your senses and makes you faster, and stronger. For you it will massively increase the strength and speed you’re already growing.”

“So, not all of it is bad?”

He shakes his head, a conciliatory smile spreading across his face. “No, not all of it is bad. Even the mind control thing isn’t that bad. And it won’t work forever. Just for a few days after every time, you have his blood. It will also increase your bond to him.”

I scrunch my eyebrows together. “Nuh-uh. That’s not happening again. I’ll bleed out first.”

Cole chuffs at my show of petulance. Even I have to acknowledge that I’m being absolutely ridiculous. I know it, too. “Might want to lay off the bourbon then.”

With that, he starts advancing toward the house, but he’s going at a completely reasonable pace, knowing that I’m going to follow. “Why??” I drag the word out with an unnatural hitch of inflection at the end to drive the point of how annoyed I am home.

“The whiskey isn’t just whiskey. It has Azrael’s blood and some colloidal silver mixed in. That’s why he doesn’t serve it to most patrons.”

“He’s been feeding me his blood without me even knowing it?”

I can feel a blush of rage as the blood races through my body. I’m so angry I can feel the adrenaline force my fingers into tremors as I hold them at my side.

“I can see that you’re pissed, and it makes me hesitant to tell you anything more. I’m not going to unless you calm down. Do you want to take a break? Walk around the perimeter a couple of times?”

I close my eyes so tightly my nose scrunches in protest of the action. I force myself to stand there as I take a few calming breaths and shake out my hands. After a minute or two, I start feeling better.

“Please, Cole. Explain.”

He nods slowly, hesitant to tell me more, I can tell, but his good nature wins out. “You also need to know about what happens when he has your blood. Which he has, correct?”

“Some,” I say, feigning nonchalance.

He nods again, his shoulders slumping as he exhales a deep breath. “He’ll always be able to find you. It’s a tether that can never be extinguished. It binds you to him. It’s probably some predator holdover so we can track prey that we may have lost.”

That’s not the worst thing ever. So what if he can find me? I shrug at him, letting him know that I give zero craps about that small truth. But, he continues.

“The other part is that because of who you are, it’s going to act like an aphrodisiac to you both. You will sense your blood on him, and he will feel you to his very marrow. The more of your blood he has, the more that will increase. Just so you’re aware.”

I drop my mouth open, letting out a loud bark of angry laughter. The audacity! How dare he do that without consulting me first? Who the hell does he think he is? The King or something? God. I try to hold it together because I do have one other question I want to ask him before I’m ready to let this subject die in the wind.

“What do you mean, when you said because of who I am. Is it because of the God thing? Or is it part of the prophecy? Because maybe it’s not really a thing. I know I haven’t felt anything.” It’s a lie. I know it, he knows it, and the entire state of Louisiana knows it, but I’m not prepared to admit that I care for his majesty just yet.

“Well, part of it is because of the prophecy, yes, but part of it is because of ‘the God thing’,” he says that last part using air quotations with his hands and I can't help but let the corners of my mouth quirk up in amusement a moment before schooling my impression so that I’m not giving anything away.

“Elaborate? Please? I want to go in and shower at some point today.”

He takes a few more steps towards me so we’re standing nearly toe to toe, the proximity is heady.

“How much do you know about Norse Mythology?”