Evan Locklear was having a fretful night of little sleep. As usual, he was in the only bedroom of his shabby house, moonlight revealing a spartan interior through broken blinds. His twin bed, far too short for his lanky frame, had a thin sheet which served as a blanket for him, and while it was perfect for the summer...

This is the end. I know it in my heart, though I can hardly feel it beat within my chest. It murmurs softly against my ribcage, against soft folds of weathered skin. Where once vivacious strength and spirit had resided is now worn to destitution. Opening my eyes is hard; I remember a time when it was not...

I suppose when the four horsemen came up to my car, I should've known to put it in reverse. Or perhaps their grim faces should've sent me running. Either way, I swallowed the hot stone lodged in my throat and lowered the windows as they approached. Their lanterns bathed the dirt road in a ghoulish orange glow. Not vibrant,...

"So, what's next for you?" The reporter's gray eyes shone in the bright camera light and seemed to pierce through to her subject's soul. "I mean, you've sold art worth millions, you've been philanthropic... You even have your own wing at some museums around the world. Are you going to keep painting, even at this age?"

"Go to bed, honey," mumbled her mother, clutching a glass of wine in one hand and a weathered harlequin novel in the other. Her blond hair was frizzy in the humid night, and she was sweating through her clothes.

Though the waves crashed against the cliffside and the wind battered the thin walls of the old cottage, Cindy Davis didn't stop smiling and set the table in her kitchen for one. She couldn't hear it anyway. The lights had gone out, but she had a plethora of candles just for this occasion. Every time she went out to...

Are you there God? It's me, Jesus. Actually, my name is Paul, but wasn't Paul one of Jesus' friends - apostles, if you will? Anyway... Paul Schmidt, he is me, and I is him. I'm writing to you because I read somewhere online that if you list out all your problems in a letter to someone it helps get...

Each of the seven years Natasha Wright had lived in the small New England town of Belfry, she had experienced a rare encounter on New Year's Eve, though she'd never known it. There was only one dual coffee and pastry shop in town: Little Armaño's, which sold the best danishes and fruit cakes in the country, as far as...

The two walked in the meadow behind Lovac's pasture as they had done on countless occasions for the last twelve years, yet now their feet dragged in the tall grass and the boy looked anxiously at the girl, who herself was avoiding his gaze. Occasionally, they would see a bee in the distance and stop automatically in their tracks...

I talked to the police last night... they thought I was insane... which is about par for the course. I told them everything - every grisly detail. How he dragged her inside the laundromat, screaming. How he lifted her up and choked her against the machines... and then how he threw her to the ground as she sputtered. She tried...