Mark Boutros is an award winning writer, and author of fantasies that celebrate broad worlds, hapless characters and freedom of imagination. He also writes short stories and thrillers. Mark lives in London, loves RPSs (the computer game kind) and binge watching Netflix with his wife.
Michaelle Leigh is an American author who enjoys writing during the evening twilight. Living near a bird sanctuary by a lake, she loves the serenity that it provides. Married and mother of two full-grown adults, she finds the support and love that she needs. Her lifelong dream is to write amazing stories that people will enjoy and awaken their love for reading. Not sticking to any particular genre, she likes to test her boundaries in writing.
Danielle McNeil writes paranormal/supernatural stories that involve vampires and werewolves. Her works include The Immortals vampire series and The Bane Colony werewolf series. A graduate of Full Sail University with a Bachelor in Fine Arts for creative writing and entertainment, she has experience with script writing, comic writing and game writing. When she’s not writing, she enjoys reading paranormal romance novels and listening to classic or rock music. McNeil lives in North Carolina with her siblings.
Roxie Harper is an author based in the United Kingdom writing mainly fantasy/magical romance with dashes of insanity. She lives in Wales, at the bottom of a mountain (which may explain quite a bit when reading her characters) with her Labrador (Louie) and way too many books. Her Sh!t Witches World is the first foray into the minefield that is A****n Kindle and will be placed in the kindle unlimited deal for the foreseeable future. Be on the lookout for future publications and make sure to follow Roxie on twitter and a****n so that you are made aware of new releases and can see exactly what else she's up to in the mountains of Wales
Medeia Sharif was born in New York City and received her Master’s Degree in psychology from Florida Atlantic University. After becoming a voracious reader in high school and a relentless writer dabbling in many genres in college, she found her niche writing short stories, articles, and novels for all age groups. She has a special place in her heart for horror genre and loves diverse characters, settings and storylines that are found in scary stories of various media.
Neha Tekwani is an Administrator turned Author. She made her debut with the Anthology, ‘Tales of Heart’ published by Damick Publications and is set to release her independent novel sometime in the future. Her mainstream genres include new adult fiction, realistic fiction, and contemporary romance. A thorough believer of unconditional love, she enlightens her readers with the importance of self-live and self-complacency. She is also a psychology loved, a 24/7 bibliophile who loves the smell of books, and considers Netflix as her first love. Sluggishly motivated, she often thinks her job is to be a hopeless romantic.
M.M. Ward is a post-stroke mother who started scribbling stories as part of her language recovery. She considered herself a hummingbird writer with how fast words pour out and her muse is like that of a hummingbird in a meadow, everywhere at once. Despite being a lover of shifter fiction and sci-fi fantasy fusion, majority of her writing is based on ‘overcome’ fiction, women’s fiction about people, their circumstances and how their choices affect life. Not every story has a happy ending. Her motto in life is: When life knocks us down, we all have a choice: to be Better, or to become Bitter. I choose Better.
Melissa S. Vice is an American author of erotica, fantasy and paranormal romance novels. Vice was born in Duluth, GA a proud Libra in the fall of October. She is the author of Oblivion, the fantasy romance novel and book one of her Tales of Incipion series, and the highly anticipated werewolf novel, Beneath the Blood Moon. An avid reader, she was introduced to her first taste of whimsical love, Wishes by Jude Deveraux, and has expanded her shelves since those tender years of youth and blissful ignorance. Her enjoyment for video games and books inspire unlimited worlds of adventure and everlasting love to rival those that had come before.
Asa Swift is a police officer in Indianapolis and has been in law enforcement for thirty-four years. He is married to his wife Janet and they have three sons. Ready for something new and having a creative side, he took to writing horror, his favorite genre of books and movies. Born in Hartford, Indiana, despite getting a late start in writing, he improves every day. Swift enjoys fishing, firearms, cooking and his grandchildren, and of course, HORROR! As a means of continue writing, he keeps his grandparents close to his heart and mind for always encouraging him to not give up.
Portia Ekka is best known for her freestyle writing pop of creative enthusiasm every now and then. She spends most of her time trying to have imaginary conversations with imaginary audiences and calls it her ‘Ted Talk’. With a flair on subjects ranging from Arts and Culture to Handicrafts to Film, she aspires to start her own company in direction. She enjoys chicken wings, procrastinating and laughing maniacally during the most inappropriate times. Ekka will soon debut with her first book, a collection of poems that is sure to touch the hearts of readers.
For more: editingleindiehouse.com
Lying here with a loss of words, hearing no sound but that of a dirgeI searched my mind but it comes blank, the sounds of Lament fell like I sankDeadweight is my body all dressed and adorned, to be viewed by the ones who felt I have scornedTucked in a billow of alabaster white, a weight of coins to keep out the lightHow is it possible I am lying here, surrounded by people who don’t shed a tear?Trying to move to stop this façade, not wanting to meet the one they call GodClosing the lid with a small click, hearing the pallbearer say, ‘What a dick’The vertigo of weightlessness now being felt, not liking the cards that were dealtHearing the thud of dirt being thrown, the feeling of dread about the unknownThe smell of dirt that’s been freshly turned, makes my stomach start to churnNot understanding why I can’t move nor utter a sound, as they continue to put me in the groun
Mum wiped the stringy blood from around Granddad’s mouth.“Emma, grab the tissues from the desk,” she ordered.Granddad lay on his battered mattress in the corner and stared at the damp ceiling. He looked like he was sick of fighting whatever tortured his insides, and skin hung like it wanted to leave him. I grabbed the tissue box and wheeled over to him.When we discovered his lung cancer was terminal mum moved him from the cabin by the pond to the farmhouse so he could spend his dying days closer to us. The stench of cigarettes clung to him, even though he hadn’t smoked for the last month.He coughed more blood.Fear twinkled behind the dry sickness in his eyes. They locked on mine and he moved his finger over the duvet in a circular motion while mum wiped the blood. I had no idea what he wanted, and I wished we could’ve bonded more, but in truth, he scared me. He always stared and looked anguished. Eighteen years we
AddyI am so excited; we finally get to go on vacation for two weeks. I've spent the whole month buying supplies, stocking the RV to get everything ready. My husband, Jim, and I love the outdoors. Going camping every year to get away from civilization is our thing. We've been married seven years with no kids or pets. So there is nothing but our jobs to hold us back from living life on the road.“Honey, can you pack the case of water in the under storage compartment for me?”Putting the last of the supplies away and going through my mental checklist, I confirm we’re good to go. He makes sure the house is secure with locks on and timers for the lights set. I let out a hum of contentment as Jim wraps his arms around me and kisses my neck.“Are you ready to go, gorgeous?”God, I love the way he feels against me. It’s the first weekend in October and this trip will be the reset button after busting our ass al
“Let’s keep going, guys.” Beatrice Cunningham put a hand up to shield her eyes. The scorching heat from the sun not only blinded her but was making her a little queasy. Still, she couldn’t give up the find, a brilliant discovery. The bills weren’t paying themselves. Beatrice needed something, anything to get her out of debt. Her crew was in the same boat. They had to make a breakthrough or it was over. Her father, Eli, clarified it. He wasn’t funding her little ‘expeditions’ anymore. “I think we should give up now, Tish.” Henry, one of Beatrice’s oldest friends gazed at her. He took off his hat and fanned himself. He wiped the sweat from his brow. His face was coated with dirt from the digs along with his blond hair. Beatrice sighed. The others looked worn out. They leaned against the dusty door of their latest dig. Beatrice grabbed two canteens out of the back. “I guess you’re right, Hank,” she tossed him a canteen. “We’re dying of thirst out here. Maybe we
Dead people smell weird. I don’t mean the obvious rotting flesh, rancid bodily fluid kind of smell. This was more like ash and earth, maybe with a hint of smoky barbecue. You’d think I’d be used to it by now with a thousand years to acclimate. But my nose still twitched and crinkled as the newly risen ambled at my side. “Would you mind walking further down-wind?” After a decade of having been under a curse that had changed my appearance to a witchy old hag and my subsequent failure to break it until recently, I’d since been attempting to live by the ‘kill more flies with honey’ motto. The forced politeness was often driven through tightly clenched teeth. Previously, the figure shuffling along beside me, would have already been reduced to ash for the annoying scrape of his foot along the pavement alone. But with meditative breathing and an iron-tight control of my temper, I just about held it together. Barely. “Merrgagahh,” he groaned.
“Did you not hear me calling you?” Her syllables are erratic and hard. “I need your help, Mary!” I sit up in bed and rub my eyes. It’s ten o’clock. I squint at the missed calls. Five of them tonight, all from Victoria. “Hmmm, I have the sniffles.” I clear my throat. “What’s going on?” “Paul broke up with me!” He broke up with her at least once a month, for several months now. I don’t know how to say this to her face, but she’s an annoying, clingy, drama queen. “I need you. What should I do?” “Hold on.” I put the phone on speaker so I can tie my curly hair in a knot. My golden skin looks almond-toned in the faint lamplight. Mary is the opposite of me, a blue-eyed blonde. At our university, we’re called caramel and cream. We’re also different in other ways. She’s all roar, while I’m the calm one. She cries ugly. I imagine her pale face all scrunched up, her button nose all red, and her bangs falling onto her forehead. “He told me… he tol
I gasped with the shock of fresh oxygen Entering my casket After months of monotony In my tired mind How was it they cried Who knew me the least? And those who did, Enjoyed a feast After I left for heavenly abode Or so they thought Snickering, I took deep breaths I was here... I was finally here! I live for eternity “For from dust I came and dust I became” Did me no scathe And now I had slept on the wrath Of the build that homed my memories They soothed my calvaries Like a balm of a new mother’s lullaby And I hinted at all the sighs That shed a tear or two in play They’d have to suffer a greater delay For there was no angels and no heaven to pave Their way into this darkened mist I am the walking wish Of every lover
Seated at the rooftop of her house Cassandra stared at the skyline of New Orleans for the millionth time and, again the same thought plagued her mind, ‘Darkness bounds within her; Andrea says it’s destructive, yet she’s a human, not a ghost. If it consumed her in its cage, why doesn’t it kill her? … so, she can transform into a blood-sucking monster crawling people’s heart out and devour it until the last shred of it disappears.’ The noxious craving of death isn’t new nor old, it’s deceptive as the month of Halloween. October is a wicked time of the year for her and she contemplated, ‘Why?’ but couldn’t follow a conclusion. Cassy abhorred the young evening and the civilians on the street who’re busy preparing for the parade to celebrate the supernatural forces which existed thousand years ago. It included even her new wife, Andrea. They got married last week, after having a relationship of over five years but instead of going on a honeymoon, Andrea preferred