Weekend Write'thon: Show 'Em If You've Got 'Em Post
It's Monday, Monday, Monday!
And that means it's time for all you surviving weekend warriors to share the fruits of your madness. It doesn't matter whether what you have is a finished piece or three hasty sentences--show us what you have! You never know when a slim beginning may lead to a tidy masterpiece. Take this chance to hook a beta reader or ( Read more... )
And that means it's time for all you surviving weekend warriors to share the fruits of your madness. It doesn't matter whether what you have is a finished piece or three hasty sentences--show us what you have! You never know when a slim beginning may lead to a tidy masterpiece. Take this chance to hook a beta reader or ( Read more... )
Fashionable layering could hide a multitude of sins-or bloodstains. Which is why Kris was regretting having walked out the door that morning in only jeans and a t-shirt.
Kris slumped against an alley dumpster, grit and god-knows-what stained his ripped shirt and the chill of cold metal seeped into his back. He pressed one shaky hand to the scratches on his hip. They weren’t too deep, but they stung and his jeans were only aggravating the wounds. It didn’t feel like the worst of his injuries though; dark bruises mottled his arms, wrapped around his wrists and made his hands numb. Blood soaked the thin fabric just below his collarbones and Kris couldn’t see, but he was sure his neck didn’t look any better-in fact, it probably looked worse.
Damn vampires. Kris had never had a problem with them until now. Until Adam, his brain supplied.
Adam. He should call Adam. Did the vamp take his cell? Were the paparazzi still camped out across the coffee shop ( ... )
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