The winds blew around him, long strands of platinum hair flowing in the air currents behind him as his ship tacked towards the coast. Light rain clouds floated to the north, deeper into the sea, and he could sense the power of the storms flowing outward from them, energy tingling through his body and mind. …
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No More Running
He’d ridden home on the back of the SpyderCycle, alternately fuming quietly with the occasional angry outburst to his brother about their failure. It didn’t take them long with Bryce’s suicidal speed, to drive along the cost of California until they reached Tempest Point. Everyone made noises about a post-mortem session with food but he …
Mazatlan Massacre: Departure
They'd been throwing what supplies they had from the crappy apartment into Brett's jeep when he heard them approaching. Bryce and Karen had gone up for the last load of spare clothes and blankets a few minutes earlier. He kept loading the last of the water and food into the back of the jeep. Not …
Safe Places: Part 3
Somewhere, the blackness echoed with a thump, a slight flutter, a thump, a thump.....followed by burning warmth. The slightest vibration within the shattered thoughts....... Once again, his torn and rent lungs, the burning throat ejected the contents of the sea outward and then gasped a shuddering inhalation. Somewhere, instinct reacted. A second breath, and then …
Safe Places: Part 2
He awoke to aching cold, a mix of numbness and pain in his legs. Dizzy, he couldn't really orient his direction, but when he moved, the feeling of water sloshing around him brought some coherency to his thoughts. A fine spray was showering over him, as he struggled to get somewhat upright. He moved his …
Safe Place – Part 1
He awoke suddenly, confused momentarily before his body addressed the swelling from the concussion driven through his brain as his head slammed into the steel walls a few moments ago. His senses fired, but the container provided no light for his eyes to filter, completely dark. It had been dark outside, but there was no …
My Hometown
They never really looked like they should be together, the punk girl and the soldier. Age, music, style, clothing, bearing, attitude, all said no. A grand tour of Port Hedland proved that, where no one knew them. Now, as evening closed in, and the sun headed towards the sea, they sat on an isolated …
First Loves: Part II
Men Who Loved Her by Paradise Motel He'd been pulling her along impatiently, but when she stepped on a sharp rock for the second time, she stopped, hopping on one foot, muttering obscenities at the rock, the farm, Australia and fucking stupid Australian snakes walking around in the dark where no one can see. When …
First Loves: Part I
She awoke to an empty bed, not an unusual feeling. The darkened room was strange, only the moonlight glowing through an open window, the curtains waving slightly in the breeze of the Australian night, throwing waving shadows across the room. It felt more than a little creepy to be in Brett's childhood room and bed, …
Coming Home
He'd been obnoxious about the Venn diagram discussion. Intellectually, regardless of what he told Henri, he could recognize the value of such a proposition, and frankly it really wasn't that much different in its objective than many of the threat or target analysis discussions he'd either ran or participated in previously. Course, stylistically, anything related …
Homeward Bound
Sophia by Cruxshadows Its never really silent in a combat aircraft, even when its quiet. The mechanical hums, the chimes and sounds of various consoles, the breathing, farts, belches, and assorted creaks of equipment from the troops in the back. Now, though, with Alliance Two, it seemed different. Oh sure, Henri snored in the co-pilot's …
Broken Self
Empty Eyes by Within Temptation He walked out of his office, "Tôi sẽ đi dạo, tôi sẽ trở lại tòa nhà trong khoảng ba mươi, Leyna. Trang cho tôi nếu bạn cần tôi." "Chắc chắn rồi, Trưởng," she replied automatically in Vietnamese, knowing the boss liked to have short conversations like this to practice the …
Lord Elyrienne Malenthlal
Illustration by Teresa Guido © Last Dreams Creations
Ghosts of Therapy: Interlude to Mazatlan Massacre
The man sat on the bench, staring into the brilliant hues of the setting sun, dropping into the ocean to the west. Perfectly still, sunglasses hiding the eyes. A construction workers tool, the nail gun, lay crookedly on the ground, blood congealing slowly next to it in the sand and rock covering the roof of …
Continue reading Ghosts of Therapy: Interlude to Mazatlan Massacre
Mazatlan Massacre – Intro
2018-01-18 0337 I can tell you this is fucking bullshit. I’m tired of the dreams. The nightmares. Not sleeping. I finally went and saw Downs a couple months ago, since Henri wouldn’t give me her head doctor’s name. Course, that’s half a lie covered in secrecy since he only knows me at Smith, the …
Last Dreams 