Novedades

Thrilling short stories featuring fan favorite characters from the beloved High Republic series each written by a New York Times bestselling author.

WHY ARE YOU HERE? I ASKED, BUT SHE DIDN'T ANSWER RIGHT AWAY THE NEXT DAY, I LOOKED TO THE RIGHT, SHE HAD A LOT TO SAY WHEN I LOOK TO THE LEFT SHE FALLS ASTRAY WHEN I TURN TO THE RIGHT AGAIN, SHE IS BACK THE NEXT DAY

End up there if you must, with the Demon in the Dust, this is a fictional poem after the fact when death is intact...

A MENTAL HEALTH POEM: If you take a bad trip down memory lane There will be no gain from repeated pain So be careful of memories trapped in the brain Life will feel unkind and you no longer feel sane

Vindecker A Gothic Tale of Science, Obsession, and Redemption In the shadow of Victor Frankenstein’s infamous experiments, another mind toils just down the road—one less celebrated, but no less consumed. Dr. Oswald Vindecker is a respected Victorian-era physician, brilliant and admired. But behind the doors of Vindecker Manor, he conducts a series of secret experiments—straining the limits of life and death, and the boundaries of morality. As he recruits prisoners, outcasts, and even those closest to him for his twisted tests, Oswald’s obsession grows—and so does the cost. Told ...

From first crushes to first heartbreaks, complicated family dynamics to community relationships, this powerful collection of stories explores race, class, culture, language, and the very idea of home as both a place and a feeling.

Look I came to work today and all I have to say, it has been “One Rough Night” first there were fights and a delay, two were caught but the third got away, things turned bloody, and that's exactly how I like to play

Tabloids invite us to gorge ourselves on tales of epic personal failures, and so many of us eagerly oblige. Guilty pleasures, we savor these stories most satisfactorily with a garnish of sex scandal, a dash of fiscal malfeasance and a generous dollop of social corruption. Next, we expect a weeping dessert of shame and regret to follow. Afterward, everything ends in a dumpster or the backseat of an aging sedan before we stagger home again, sated, smug and full of improving condemnations. Cup your ears and shade your eyes now. Peer into the gloom of your neighbor’s windows to eavesdrop. ...

While most of us have had celebrity crushes in our youth, fifteen-year-old Roy Tilson is more fascinated by and perhaps a little obsessed with pop sensation Isaac Barnes, who happens to be from his hometown. One of the benefits of being an inquisitive Tumblr boy is that Roy has discovered a mysterious email alleging to be his heroes circling around the internet. What happens when Roy coincidentally receives a reply from the adored, gorgeous, curly-haired boy who plays the guitar?

In this unflinching psychological portrait, The Gray Hours unfolds through the fragmented journal of Nora Holt—a sharp-witted, self-aware woman quietly unraveling beneath the surface of an ordinary life. Written in raw, intimate entries, Nora chronicles the slow descent into a place where even the air feels heavy and the mirror reflects a stranger. With biting dark humor and startling honesty, this book doesn’t promise healing—it documents the fight to even believe healing is possible. What begins as numbness becomes an interrogation of self, memory, and survival. For readers of ...

While the vast majority perishes in quiet anonymity, a tour of any national monument quickly reveals countless names carved into stone. These names generally identify three classes of people; scribe, conquered and conqueror. Indeed, if anything, life is an endless series of contests, large and small, but these stone-graven records typically ignore the latter for the former. Too often, history overlooks the struggles of mundanity, which perhaps better define those who endure. Pause a reflective moment to ponder the future – anticipate all the boastful elite to be immortalized there. ...

Everyone loves a good joke, but nobody enjoys being subjected to the fun. Pranks are an especially childish form of delight, perhaps because they are the ultimate expression of prurient sadism, which we must disavow as civilized adults. We, the same civilized adults who teach our beloved youth the art of warfare while stockpiling an obscene surplus of thermonuclear weapons. Now that is funny! So, tease a guilty moment to titillate your secret sadist today. Giggling, it whispers. Of spoiled affluence and nothing better to do; of grotesque victimization that makes monsters from innocent ...

Several of the best human hypocrisies are immortalized in catechisms. We say “violence never solved anything” when history repeatedly teaches us otherwise, and once we prematurely labeled an entire, global war as “The War to End All Wars” long before we recorded its half-formed outcome. Dynasties fall. Empires rise. In marble, granite and concrete, we immortalize these events, large and small, and we celebrate the human beings named heroes there. Rightly so. Pause a moment before The Wall – let your finger trace names in stone. From pits of despair and summits of glory, they ...

Within realms of the unknown, superstition stalks. Primitives see god in a rainbow, but they also suspect a deadly serpent beneath every unturned stone. Ignorance and fear sometimes unite to inspire us or spare us, but more often this demonic duality serves to light the torches of enraged mobs. Indeed, history tells stories of witches burned alive amid great celebrations. We know these things happened. We also know witchcraft is a figment. Fearlessly now, step away from the staid, known world that shelters you. Venture into lands of conundrum and enigma to witness ciphered matters of mind. ...

Rascals, rapscallions, villains and varlets; all terms of a bygone era intended to describe the guy in the black hat, that perverse character of low virtue and strayed morality who forever ties the distressed damsel to cold, steel rails. Gasp! Within fictional fantasies, they are always guys and damsels, and they must wear black. In reality, we still mostly read about bad ‘guys’, but the women tend to fight back now, often with devastating effect. Tonight, the devil laces thigh-high boots over fence-net stockings before taking a turn through town. Be warned and beware. Of evil delight ...

Champions come in all shapes and forms. The same is true of cowards. Most of us line up somewhere between these two extremes of potential, but none of us eagerly anticipate having to prove ourselves in a crossfire. In fact, most notable acts of heroism are not the results of well-considered, carefully laid plans. Rather, these are often spontaneous yet deliberate demonstrations of selflessness occasionally on display when normal human beings must confront life-threatening risk. Take a deep, calming breath now before you dare gaze into the face of death. Trembling, heed its heckling catcalls...

Disinfectants, detergents, insecticides, fungicides, herbicides and homicides – everything a human being needs to clear his or her lot and start fresh in life, clean and pure, and it all waits at the press of a finger. Some of us love a good disaster, but we watch from a safe distance and it always happens to someone else… somewhere else… never here. Never us. Distended bellies and skeletal children are always the misfortune of others. Stop and wonder why. Your preferred answer no doubt leaps easily to mind, but the truth is probably quite different, because pestilence comes in all ...

Mothers no longer name their sons ‘Adolph’. Almost everyone knows why. Though all innocent babes do not develop into monsters, all monsters develop from innocent babes. We prefer fiction to reality, because thoughts of the former easily yield to denials of reason, while the latter only reminds us of our common origins in the primitive. Steal a private moment now and listen to your inner voice. It whispers. Of rising mutant domination amid apocalyptic wastes; of grotesque human chimeras practicing ancient arts; of despicable capital criminals kept in unbreakable cages and of the flawed ...

A silly titmouse once sang sweetly to describe love as “a many-splendored thing”. Perhaps this is so. For some. For others, love’s terrible spectacle shines in its many violent twists and unexpected turns. Each feckless angle of its affection or disaffection invariably leaves a disfiguring blemish that renders exquisite facets of character from alternating impacts of tragedy, disaster, triumph and ecstasy. Too briefly, desire’s artistry sparkles the amazed eye with a fateful brilliance before fiery passion fades to leave its victims cold and trembling in its wake. Steal a secret ...

Within each human being lingers a mischievous child, but each of us also cages an unformed primitive. We keep our individual id-monster within the tempered bars of civility, yet it remains our secret delight of a darkened, unobserved evening and we make it our fondest fetish at every available opportunity. No matter how mightily we struggle, history scrawls with endless tales of failed self-control, so each scandal both titillates and disgusts depending upon personal sensibilities. Indulge your inner-beast. How it roars! Of broken souls crushed between despair and revenge; of normalcy ...