SPOTLIGHT - HORROR - STAY AT CASTLE DRACULA... AND OTHER SHORT-SHORT STORIES by Jim Nemeth

I can scare and thrill you in only...100 words!

Stay at Castle Dracula…and Other Short-Short Stories
by Jim Nemeth
Genre: Horror Short Stories

Do you enjoy a good drabble? No, not America’s most popular word game—that’s Scrabble. No, not those cute, furry little creatures from Star Trek—those are tribbles. A drabble is a form of intense fiction writing consisting of 100 words. Not 100 chapters, not 100 paragraphs, nor even 100 lines. 100 words. Exactly.

 Author Jim Nemeth loves the format and is an accomplished dabbler in drabbles. “Whenever I explain to friends what a drabble is,” Nemeth relates, “I get the exact same expression of disbelief: ‘100 words?’ In fact, I took these reactions and wrote a drabble about it, “Impossible Assignment,” which leads off the collection.”

Stay at Castle Dracula and Other Short-Short Stories, a chapbook, collects 26 tales, 23 of which are drabbles. With the three other stories, the author “splurged” and indulged himself with an additional 100-200 words.

Other tales of five score words include “Disgruntled,” where a joyous family Christmas celebration turns horrific when a little boy doesn’t get the toy he wanted; “Love Potion” relates what happens when a witch’s magic works too well. And in the title story, another young English traveler debates his decision in staying in Count Dracula’s centuries’ old castle. 

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It’s What’s Inside That Counts

“Why does Christy have to come over to play,” six-year-old Chloe asked in the petulant voice in which she exceled. “She’s ugly and I hate her!”

“Chloe!” the girl’s father shouted in reprimand. “Don’t talk like that. Christy may not be the prettiest of girls, but ‘beauty is only skin deep,’ as they say. It’s what’s inside a person that counts.”

Later that afternoon in her room, Chloe lay aside the dripping, red-drenched scissors with which she’d used to slice open Christy’s midsection. Closely examining its contents, she frowned in confusion. “I don’t see what’s so special about her insides…”

In 1993, Nemeth won first prize in a national magazine’s short story writing contest for which legendary authors Ray Bradbury and Robert Bloch were judges. The award held special meaning for Nemeth, as Bloch remains his favorite writer and main literary influence. Nemeth is the author of two additional books: It Came From...The Stories and Novels Behind Classic Horror, Fantasy, and Science Fiction Films and Robert Bloch: An Unconventional Bibliography, as well as being the webmaster of The Robert Bloch Official Website (robertbloch.net).

A long-time community activist, the author is particularly committed to the cause of animal rescue. He lives in the historic harbor town of Marblehead, MA. 

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SPOTLIGHT w/INTERVIEW - FAIRYTALE RETELLING - MAIDEN TOMB (Twelve cursed Maidens, #1) by Cynthia Sally Haggard

Maiden Tomb

Twelve Cursed Maidens, #1

by Cynthia Sally Haggard

Publication Date: ‎ February 4th 2025

Publisher: ‎Cynthia Sally Haggard Press

Genre: Fairytale Retelling, Fantasy

ASIN: ‎ B0DNWVFZ81

Tagline: Would you marry a stranger to free your sisters from imprisonment?

BLURB

In this retelling of The Twelve Dancing Princesses, sixteen-year-old Justice wants to release her sisters from the maw of Father's imprisonment. But what can she do? The easiest way would be to find suitors for them.

However, that is not so easy, for Justice's elder sisters are strange. What with All-Gifted's madness, Protectress's hair writhing with snakes, Death-Bringer's grief (not to mention her strange name), Shining's too-overt sexuality, Maiden's tart tongue, Shadow's crippling shyness, no sensible man would want her sisters as wives. Which leaves Justice, the seventh daughter, the one who possesses a quiet authority.

Justice has already acquired an admirer in the shape of Lord Nobody, who proclaims his undying love for her. But what does he really want? And doesn't he have a wife already?

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P r o l o g u e ~ The Twelve Mysterious Daughters
Playful speaks
 
In the past week or so since we’ve arrived, life has taken on a predictable rhythm. I spend the mornings entertaining the ladies of the castle, with the lyre, my singing, playing knucklebones, and listening to their gossip. Truth to tell, nothing they say is particularly interesting as high-born ladies spend their time inside. When they are not diverting themselves with such pastimes as I provide, they are spinning, weaving, running the household, and caring for their children. They talk incessantly about their children. They know little of the outside world.
I escape after the midday meal, taking advantage of the ladies’ habit of resting as the sun’s chariot crests at the highest point of the day. While they sleep, I head out into the scorching countryside looking for Father.
We sit together in the shade, while Father does some task, usually repairing something, while I tell him everything I’ve learned the evening before. It is not that hard. Because I am small, and people are now familiar with my face, no one pays me any mind as I take my seat at the bench that runs along the side of the huge table where all the working folk of the castle eat their meals.
Father has told me never to be inquisitive, but I am dying to know more about the twelve mysterious ladies locked up in the castle tower, the ones people whisper about behind their hands when they think no-one is noticing.
As the light of the sun drains from the sky, as the king’s men sink lower onto wooden benches eating dish after dish, quail, pheasant, peacock, duck, eggs, bread, olive oil, wine, and olives, the noise of seven hundred men sharing jokes, laughing, and swilling wine reverberates around the hall.
Finally, I can take it no more."Is it true what they say about the King’s daughters?"
The grizzled stranger on the bench next to me wipes the grease off his mouth with the back of a hand and spits out an olive pit.
"Where’ve you popped up from? You shouldn’t be here. You’re only a young lad."
I am used to these remarks. After I left home I took a ship that was blown off course, taking me west to the land of the Italoi. I had to beg for money in the streets and in the taverns and it was not long before I heard news of Father, who was sailing to the west of this land.
And so I made my way across steep mountains before coming down to a lush plain. Playing my lyre to entertain strangers I followed their directions to the sea, to a wide bay within sight of a simmering, high, conical-shaped mountain.
And there, in a tavern, I met Father.
Now we are traveling home together. But Father is not here on the bench beside me, as he should be, but outside at a nearby farm pretending to be a stable hand.
This is one of Father’s clever strategies. He is a master at extracting information. He calls his strategy "divide and conquer" and it means that I have to use my lyre to find a berth for the night in some local chieftain’s house. This is not usually difficult, especially if there are ladies around because for some reason they always want to pet me.
Meanwhile, Father finds work on the outside as a shepherd, farmhand, or stable boy. By concealing his origins and pretending to be dumb, drunk, or both, Father is able to overhear a great many things. We have a plan to meet every day at noon, I escaping the blandishments of the ladies to visit the local farm for milk, cheese, eggs where I could happen upon the new stable boy, farmhand, or shepherd.
The only fly in the ointment is my age. I am only twelve years old and to my great annoyance, I look it. So Father made me memorize some phrases to offer when this issue arises.
"Father is here with me, but is suffering with an ache to his belly."
One sentence is usually enough for most people. Father has instructed me never to offer explanations that are not asked for as it only makes people more curious.
But the fellow is staring at me, waiting for more.
I turn my eyes down. "Father told me to eat supper and then berth with him in the stable yard."
"He’s the new stable hand, is he?"
I nod.
"Much good he’ll be with a bellyache."
I look up. "Do you have a remedy for that good sir?"
Father always stresses the importance of asking for advice when a conversation turns sour, as it flatters the vanity.
The fellow hawks and spits, rising from his seat. "You’ll have to go to the kitchens for that, son." He ambles off.
I return to my meal, hoping the others will forget about me and the conversation I’ve just had. Fortunately, it is that time of the meal when men turn tipsy. Pretty soon they are laughing, singing, and telling dirty jokes. One song goes like this:
 "There once was a king with twelve daughters—"
                        —"Twelve bee-yoo-tiful daughters," sing the others in an out-of-tune chorus.
"But he refused to marry them off—"
                        —"Twelve bee-yoo-tiful daughters!"
"And why did he refuse to marry them off?"
                        —"Twelve bee-yoo-tiful daughters!
"Because they would make unsuitable wives—"
                        —"Twelve bee-yoo-tiful daughters!"
"The eldest is mad.
The second is bad.
The third is sad.
The fourth too bold.
The fifth too shrill.
The sixth too shy.
The seventh too just.
While the eighth loves her father too much—Ha! Ha!
The eighth loves her father too much!
The ninth is a boy.
The tenth a mermaid.
The eleventh a goddess.
While the twelfth has only five years, five years,
The twelfth daughter has only five years."
"Do not touch!" yells someone to guffawing laughter.
The men pick up their song again:
"But the one you need to watch for is number four, number four,
The one you need to watch for is number four.
For the fourth daughter is a very naughty girl,
With large bold eyes and a nearly naked form—"
This goes on for some time. The fourth daughter seems to fascinate the men. I chew thoughtfully. Somehow, I must find a way of meeting her.
I turn to another man. "Is it true he locked all twelve of his daughters up in a high tower?"
The man nods.
"Why are they going on about the fourth daughter? I thought it was the eldest who dishonored the family name—"
"Keep your voice down," hisses the fellow. He looks around and then stares back at me from under bushy brows. "Your information is quite good, boy. Most of what you say is true."
"Which part is false?"
The fellow rises to his feet. "If you’ll take my advice, you’ll keep your mouth shut. Folk pay with their lives by asking too many questions." He glances around and draws his forefinger across his throat.
"But—" I gesture to the men singing lustily.
"They’re drunk."
"But—" I say again. But the man vanishes into the press of sweaty male bodies.
Outside, it is a lovely evening with a couple more hours to run before the sun dips below the trees. The castle tower stands up like a finger, a beckoning, a warning, that people can see for miles around. If their eyesight is good, they will see a window set high in the tower, just underneath the tiled roof. On a fine day, the window unlatched, the wind carries the sound of voices, the high sound of girls’ voices gossiping, chattering, giggling. Now, on this late summer evening, someone closes that high window shut. I catch a glimpse of a heart-shaped face with deep-set dark-grey eyes, and light-brown hair drawn back into a braid. Which daughter could she be? Not number four, for she is dressed modestly in a light woolen robe dyed a soft grey to match her eyes.
I lift my head to the moon, a thin fingernail of a crescent. A shiver runs up my spine. Something is going to happen within the month, I can feel it. This place hums with suppressed tensions.

Father will be so interested when I see him tomorrow.

Author Info

Cynthia Sally Haggard was born and reared in Surrey, England.

About 40 years ago, she surfaced in the United States, inhabiting the Mid-Atlantic region as she wound her way through four careers: violinist, cognitive scientist, medical writer, and novelist.

Her first novel, Thwarted Queen, a saga set in 1400s England with a Game of Thrones vibe, won the 2021 Gold Medal IPPY Award for Audiobook. Her second novel, Farewell My Life, a dark historical about a hidden murderer, won the 2021 Independent Press Award for Women’s Fiction and was a 2019 Distinguished Favorite for the New York City Big Book Award. (Farewell is now a set of four novellas that make up the Grace Miller series.)

Maiden Tomb, the first of four projected novellas that will form the Twelve Cursed Maidens series, was a 2026 Distinguished Favorite for the Independent Press Award. Cynthia graduated with an MFA in Creative Writing from Lesley University, Cambridge MA, in June 2015.

When she’s not annoying everyone by insisting her fictional characters are more real than they are, Cynthia likes to go for long walks, knit something glamorous, cook in her wonderful kitchen, and play the piano.

The Book Junkie Reads . . . Interview with . . . Cynthia Sally Haggard . . . 

How would you describe your style of writing to someone who has never read your work?

Some reviewers have told me that I have a unique style of writing. That is because I use a lot of gerunds that I don’t always connect with the preposition “and.”

Let’s take a look at a couple of scenes that convey the same emotions, but in different ways.

“Lily!” he called. “Where are you?” He opened the door.

His wife sat on the sofa. She glared at him.

“What’s wrong?”

“As if you care to know!” She got up and flounced off. She banged the door behind her.

This is how I would write this scene.

“Lily! Where are you?”

Opening the door he spotted his wife sitting on the sofa, glaring.

She was glaring at him.

He came forward. “What’s wrong?”

“As if you care to know!” Rising, she flounced off, banging the door behind her.

A gerund is a verb that has an “ing” ending in English. I use it often as it conveys movement. And I like to have the reader moving through a scene rather than staying put, as I think it is more interesting.

Do you feel that writing is an ingrained process or just something that flows naturally for you?

Nowadays, it seems to flow naturally. But I had to work very hard to get to that point. When I started out writing fiction over twenty years ago, my writing style was academic and filled with jargon. That is because for the past fifteen years, I’d been working in Academia as a Cognitive Scientist. I had to design and run experiments. I had to find subjects and gather data. Then I had to write up my results in as clear a fashion as I could manage. 

It wasn’t until I tried my hand at fiction, that I realized how limited my writing style was. You see, when you do science, the words you use are propped up by the facts you are trying to convey. But when you write fiction, you don’t have any props. The words have to carry all of the weight.

And so I started taking courses. I was lucky enough to be invited to the 2005 Harper’s Ferry Writing Workshop hosted by Michael Neff, who did a terrific job of teaching story-telling mechanics. I took similar courses in San Francisco. Eventually, I found my way to the Low Residence MFA Program in Creative Writing at Lesley University in Cambridge Massachusetts.

The professors there were wonderful. But they didn’t teach story-telling mechanics. Instead, they focused on character development and word choice. And so, I learned an important lesson—that the reason why so many literary novels are not that interesting to read is because their authors focus on character and word choice, but don’t deploy story-telling mechanics.

However, I do, as I believe that the reason why most readers pick up a book is because they want to lose themselves in a great yarn. Yes, beautiful prose and interesting characters are important. But the reader wants to be drawn into the story.

As an author, you do that by teasing the reader constantly throughout the novel, so that they are dying to know what happens next. As I see myself primarily as an entertainer, who has a lot to say, that is how I have chosen to write my novels, novellas and short stories.

Have you found yourself bonding with any particular characters(s)? If so, which ones?

Yes. I seem to bond with most of my strong female characters.

My first novel, THWARTED QUEEN is a fictionalized biography of Lady Cecylee Neville (1415-1495). She became Duchess of York and an important political player during the Wars of the Roses, which erupted in 1455 and lasted over thirty years.

There was so little to go on about Cecylee, as medieval women were not deemed important enough to talk about by the monks who did the scribing. However, I was able to glean that Cecylee was a strong-minded woman who had her husband, the powerful Duke of York, wound around her little finger. It also seemed probable (to me at least) that she probably had an affair with a handsome archer that resulted in the birth of a baby boy who, later on, became King Edward IV of England. 

I am still very fond of Cecylee. For all her many faults, she was an intelligent, charming woman, with a mischievous streak.

My second novel, originally called FAREWELL MY LIFE and now titled THE HIDDEN MURDERER series is more autobiographical. It concerns a 17-year-old girl who went to Berlin in the 1920s to study the violin. Naturally she has a fabulous talent. Of course, she is extremely good-looking.

Grace, my violinist, was meant to be the main character. But, of course, I gave myself a mountain to climb by making Grace extremely shy. And not given to talking much!

Violet, her slightly older sister, was an entirely different matter. She was meant to be a minor character, whom I planned to get rid of so that I could focus on Grace. But Violet had other ideas. She decided she was going to stay. But her liveliness and witty retorts put her sister in the shade. However, far from resenting her, I grew very fond of her. I loved her lively personality, her common sense, and her street smarts. 

My third piece, the TWELVE CURSED MAIDENS series is, like THE HIDDEN MURDERER series, a series of four novellas. 

In Volume One, MAIDEN TOMB, my main character is 16-year-old Justice, the seventh daughter of a cruel father and dead mother. MAIDEN TOMB is a retelling of The Twelve Dancing Princesses folktale with elements of Greek Mythology woven in. So Justice has eleven sisters to cope with. Their father has locked all of them up in a tower, and they are desperate to leave. Especially as Justice’s elder sisters are all ladies in their early to late twenties, with the eldest princess being an elderly thirty years. The elder princesses bear the mental scars from their long imprisonment. And so it falls to Justice to set them free.

What I loved most about Justice was her quiet authority. Despite the fact that she is only sixteen, she exudes a maturity that is far beyond her years. 

Can you share your next creative project? If yes, can you give a few details?

I am in the middle of writing THE TWELVE CURSED MAIDENS a series of four novellas.

I have already written Volume One, MAIDEN TOMB, which you can find on Amazon and other places.

I am planning to publish Volume Two, MAIDEN FORGOTTEN on 12 January 2027!

MAIDEN TOMB is a retelling of The Twelve Dancing Princesses folktale. But the rest of the series is not like The Zodiac Academy, where you follow the same cast of characters through their story arc as each new volume arrives.

No. My series is quite different. You see each further volume focuses on a character from the folktale. MAIDEN FORGOTTEN focuses on the father of TDP, the one who locks his daughters up in a tower. Now what would happen if that father happened to be Genghis Khan?

Volume Three, MAIDEN SACRIFICE focuses on the soldier from TDP. This is the young man who figured out why the twelve princesses were disappearing each night, only to return with their slippers in shreds.

MAIDEN SACRIFICE is set in Bronze Age Athens, around 1800 BCE, at a time when The Iliad, The Epic of Gilgamesh and The Rig Veda were composed. It is also when the Trojan War occurred. 

Now what would you do if your foster mother threatened to sacrifice you to Athena to save the City of Athens? Especially if you were not the maiden requested but a mother of seven under the age of eight?

Volume Four, MAIDEN WARRIOR focuses on the old woman from TDP. She is the person who told the soldier not to drink the wine offered by the eldest princess, as it is drugged. In the folktale, this woman had been offering this advice to all the young men who came to try their luck. But the only one who listened was the soldier. As a result, he not only won the hand of the eldest princess, but he also saved his life. For, according to the Brothers Grimm, all the other suitors were executed. 

MAIDEN WARRIOR is set at the end of the Ice Age, around 9,700 BCE.

Now what would you do if the High God Zeus punished your people by appearing in a swirl of flames and searing cold, causing droughts, fires, plagues, and destructive whirlpools of water that destroy your city?

Where would you flee?

And how would you protect yourself from Zeus’s wrath in the future?

Behind the ruined slippers lies a true story of unimaginable devastation in an era of Ice and Fire.

If you could have dinner party with 7 fictional characters, who would they be?

Elizabeth Bennet from Jane Austen’s Pride & Prejudice, for her “pert remarks.”

Prudence and Robin Tremaine and their father Lord Barham, from Georgette Heyer’s The Masqueraders, for their devilish cleverness.

Thea and Lepida Pollia from Kate Quinn’s Mistress of Rome. Lepida Pollia is a spoiled rich aristocratic girl who is pretty clueless. Thea is her clever slave. 

Violet Miller, from my series of novellas THE HIDDEN MURDERER, for her sassy comebacks.

You can visit her at: 

Twitter ~ https://x.com/cynthiasallys

Blog ~ https://cynthiasallyhaggard.com/blog/

Website ~ https://www.cynthiasallyhaggard.com

Facebook ~ https://www.facebook.com/cynthia.haggard

Instagram ~ https://www.instagram.com/cynthiasallyhaggardauthor/

Facebook ~ https://www.facebook.com/cynthiasallyhaggardnovelist

LinkedIn ~ https://www.linkedin.com/in/cynthiasallyhaggard/

Pinterest ~ https://www.pinterest.com/cynthiasallyhaggard/

Goodreads ~ https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5293171.Cynthia_Sally_Haggard

Newsletter ~ https://mailchi.mp/cynthiasallyhaggard/subscribe-for-email-updates 

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BOOK BLITZT w/EXCERPT - YA - A CHATTER OF BONES & BABY'S BREATH by Suzanne Phillips

A Chatter of Bones & Baby’s Breath

by Suzanne Phillips

Publication date: April 21st 2026

Genres: Young Adult

BLURB

From acclaimed author Suzanne Phillips comes this compelling novella collection–gritty coming-of-age stories in narrative and verse that Kirkus Reviews calls “haunting and heartbreaking. . .an unflinching look at surviving trauma.”

A CHATTER OF BONES
Kaitlyn has come to rely on Olivia, the woman who rescued her from human trafficking, but is learning to trust her instincts and lean into her hard-earned strength. All of this will be challenged when a monsoon bears down on their remote spread, a mountain lion, flushed out of the surrounding hills by the weather, attacks, and human visitors push Kaitlyn to face her deepest fears.

BABY’S BREATH
Teen poet bares the geography of her heart and the “no care” foster care system as she mourns the mother she lost, releases dreams of reunification, and accepts that the only life she can live is the one in front of her.

Recommended for readers age 16+

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EXCERPT (Baby’s Breath):

TRAFFICK
The world is not safe for girls
Broken
Beaten
Forgotten
Sweetened
The world is not safe for girls
Not in twos
Or with mace
Not screaming for help
Or stony-faced
The world is not safe for girls
With pretty hair
Or pocked skin
With muffin top
Or perfect teeth
The world is not safe for girls
Not in your home or mine
Not in school
Or after
Not with two parents
Or none
There’s someone
Always waiting.
Stroked
Or snatched
Held by the hand
A picked flower
Sold
Bartered
Rented by the hour
Always someone waiting
In the shadows
Or under street lights
In the school cafeteria
At the family BBQ
A friend’s father
Favorite uncle
Colleague
Cop
Neighbor
Father
To prove
The world is not safe for girls.

 

Author Info

Suzanne Phillips is the author of YA fiction, the Nicole Cobain mystery series (writing as Emery Hayes), and upmarket fiction. For a peek into the writer's life and updates on book releases & events check out her website.

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A Chatter of Bones & Baby’s Breath Blitz

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BOOK BLITZ w/EXCERPT - NA/YA FANTASY - SINS OF THE FIRE: PURGATORIO (Sins of the Fire, #2) by Phoenix Ward

Sins of the Fire: Purgatorio

Sins of the Fire, #2

by Phoenix Ward

Publication date: December 18th 2025

Genres: Fantasy, New Adult, Young Adult

BLURB

The Church of New Haven extends its reach to those in need, however there are some lost souls that require more direct guidance, as their sins must be met with strong redirection. Thus, Jonah was created. Originally a man named M█████ ████, he contains over two-hundred thousand sinners. Until they reconcile with their offense to God, they are to fast and pray for their salvation for as long as it takes them to realize their folly, and call upon us.

The boy will be saved from the Dragon, even if he must waste away to understand their danger.

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Sequel to:

Check out the Kickstarter here!!

EXCERPT

This morning was a reminder that not only was sleep important, but so was waking up before 10am.

Between the heads of bed hair, scruffy clothes and flip-flops, there were black suits, floral dresses and sweet smelling perfume clouding the entrance of the store. Conversations were held in front of the doorway, carts were being pushed around like they were going out of style, and somehow that wasn’t the thing that made us second guess our trip to getting our travel items here. No, that all paled in comparison to the white van-bus with the words “Destiny Baptist Church”, written in Times New Roman on the side.

It wasn’t the church we had a problem with— it was the fact that it was Destiny, a local mega church that made their way through the doors. The same Destiny that would play on my grandmother’s radio, from preaching almost twelve hours of gospel to choirs capable of going seven octaves without any pause for breath. For whatever reason, they were here. Maybe it was some food-based event, or some donation cause, or maybe someone felt the ‘Holy Spirit’ invade them to help out a few families with groceries— either way, it was crowded. Worse yet, the congregants brought their kids too. One wrong turn with a cart and we’d be anointed with oil and made to play the burning bush. Imani and I both shared wary gazed with one another as the chatting church folk mingled with folks that just wanted to get their groceries.

I was the first one to take the initiative, but Imani was quick to hold me back from going too far.

“Hang on, no plan?” She asked, “We’re just going to go in?”

I shrugged, scooting aside as a family of three slipped past us. “Yeah. We just gotta make it through the doors. We’ll probably just grab baskets and split. When we’re done, we’ll meet right by the self-checkout, next to the gift cards.”

Her eyebrows looked like they’d fly away. She released her gentle hold of my arm. “I guess I shoulda known you’d know how to handle yourself, considering the stuff you dealt with.”

“Is it weird to admit that the cult shenanigans actually wilder compared to this?”

Imani sped ahead of me, playfully pushing me out of the way. “Just pray you don’t get lost in here!”

“Ah, pray! Good one.”

The doors opened, our opportunity for a clear entry inside revealed itself. With clergy folk standing by the door, we said our ‘Good mornings’ and kept it moving. Basket procured, we both split up and went our separate ways. I immediately made a beeline to the deli. Three pre-packaged sandwiches were perfect carry-on for the long trip. From there, I shot for the snacks aisle. Chips, protein bars, and those salty peanut butter cracker packages were all loaded up in the basket with haste. I said my ‘hello’s, and my ‘excuse me’s to any passerby, some people greet me, others regard me with a nod.

I wanted to be away from the churchgoers. They didn’t take up the store, but they were too permeated— too mixed in.

Too indistinguishable.

I wanted to pretend that everything was back to normal. That after all of the conflict, the fears, the crying, the fighting, things were safe again. Two months of nothing should have been enough to convince me, but I knew better. Every aisle I walked down, there was a body dressed in black or white—formal clothing or just plain clothes. Without touching Mysherra, I couldn’t tell which was a Havenite and which wasn’t. Even outside of the store, regular people, clerks, judges, beggars, anyone could be a Remnant out to get me, or one to watch me.

I put my hand in my pocket and stood in front of the line of power-drinks. My fingers grazed over the surface of the pen.

The hairs on my neck stood up. Goosebumps bristled along my arms. Piercing spheres of heat sandwiched both sides of my sides.

I didn’t dare turn my head—Peripherals attuned to the presence of two white-robed Remnants on opposite sides of the aisle.

“Kane.”

“I know.”

Slowly, I inched my arm out of my pocket, pen wedged between my fingers. They wouldn’t be able to fight me, not with eyes watching them from the ceiling. They didn’t want their secret to be discovered just as I didn’t.

“Do not acknowledge their presence,” Mysherra spoke to me, “Walk with me down the aisle.”

My legs walked me sideways. I didn’t want my back turned to either one of these things. The power drinks transitioned to the flavored powders. Flavored powders to sparkling sodas. Neither one of the beings made a move.

“Once you get close, fire me.”

Senses were screaming at me to run or fight the closer I got to the remnant. My heart was thudding against my ribs.

“Just a little closer.”

Light conjured at the tip of the pen. The burning spread along my entire right side.

“Okay, the fires should be quiet enough to—”

“Excuse me.”

Someone bumped against my back, cutting off my focus. “Ah, sorry about th—”

All I did was turn my head. I had seconds, milliseconds, microseconds to process the burgeoning man unlatching his jaw in front of me. Ropes of saliva separated a hollow light at the back of his throat. Flesh, wet, and acrid already surrounded me, sounds of the outside muffled by the remnant’s mouth closing behind me. I must have fired four times— twice to the ribcage roof of the mouth and twice towards the light. Footing vanished, the dark closed in, and the door to the outside slammed shut behind stone teeth.

And I fell.

 

Author Info

Phoenix Ward is an indie black writer, and educator from Philadelphia. He has worked in the field of education for over five years, teaching all grades Mathematics and English. When he’s not writing, he is composing music using Logic Pro X, or tutoring children on subjects they struggle in. Currently, he lives in Philadelphia with his dog and cat.

An avid world-builder, Phoenix has created many stories from youth to adulthood, but none have captivated him as much as his latest work Sins of the Fire, which combines his passion for storytelling with his deep understanding of human nature. He draws inspiration from the vibrant city life of Philadelphia and his own experiences as an educator, infusing his narratives with authenticity and depth.

In addition to his work as a writer and educator, Phoenix is committed to supporting young creatives in their journeys. He actively encourages students and adults alike to seek a way to create their own stories. Everyone has a message to share, and doing so in story is the best way to do so.

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GIVEAWAY!
Sins of the Fire: Purgatorio Blitz

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RELEASE DAY - CONTEMPORARY - ROCK ME by Jessica Buss

Rock Me

by Jessica Buss

Release Date: April 20th 2026

Genre/Tropes: Small Town - Sexy Geologist/Injured Retired MLB Pitcher - Protector - Opposites Attract - Virgin - True Crime Podcaster - Secret Online Pinup Model - Crochet Queen

Sharing a heated glance across a crowded bar, they both feel the spark of something monumental. And then life throws a curveball, separating them before they even have a chance to properly meet.

Bryce is a former major league pitcher who retired after a career-ending injury. Still young, he embraces his love of geology, and secures a job in Homer, Alaska. He falls in love with the state, and becomes infatuated with a woman he saw only briefly, who looks strikingly similar to an internet pin-up model he follows.

Craving independence and privacy after high school graduation, Lucinda moved to a small town outside Homer to start living her best life as a true crime podcaster. A virginal introvert with a big heart, she spends her free time crocheting blankets for babies in the NICU. But she’s not as innocent as she appears. She has a secret… She’s a sultry internet pin-up model.

Since exchanging glances that one fateful night, they’ve been pining for each other. Then fate steps in and brings them together in the most unexpected place… on a fishing charter in the middle of Kachemak Bay.

An unlikely pair with intense, unquestioning chemistry, they’re forced to work together, and confront the assumptions they hold about one another.

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