He's The Wiz Novels & Stories

My assistant hesitated and added, "It's Luke Graham. He said he's here to follow up on a promise you made." Curious, I went to the meeting room. Luke sat on the sofa holding a heart-shaped lock. The moment I saw it, I recognized it as the one we had placed on the Wishing Bridge three years ago. Under the golden hues of the setting sun, Luke smiled and said, "Anna, back then, we promised that this lock would grant each of us a wish in the future. Now, I've thought of my wish."

He frowned. “Yes… but it is him.” Yris lowered his gaze. “The incarnation of Theos, the guardian of time.” He said.

he sighs, "Maybe," he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. There was a moment of silence. I did not force any topics on him, because I felt something heavy in the air. "By the way, do you know any witches or wizards that are close by?" I asked, "The one in the north is too far away from here. I wanted some answers on something." "Hmm," he straightened himself up, browsing his drawers. He frowned,"How about this witch Salem?"

Sheffield announced as his eyes looked between Riley and I. I held out my him and he shook it enthusiastically. "When you're done having your fun, please make sure to go through the contract. It's imperative that we get this deal over with as soon as possible" I said with a smirk and Sheffield gave me one right back. "If you're indirectly telling me not fall asleep, don't bother" Sheffield leaned in closer and whispered in my ear, "I took drugs before coming so trust me when I say I'm as sturdy as a horse."

My gaze dips to his left hand and there's no wedding ring. Beautiful. "What's your name, princess?" I'm about to say Trisha but hold myself back last minute. "Tee." "Tee? That's a new one. I'm Gideon." "It's nice to officially meet you," I say, and we shake hands, exchanging another smile. I can't seem to stop smiling and my face is probably going to hurt tomorrow. That's not the only thing that'll be sore if tonight goes as planned, I think wickedly and innocently sip my beer.

My legs burn as the pawn shop sign blinks over my head. Rolling my eyes I push the heavy door open, the sound of a bell rings above me. "Afternoon." The grubby man behind the counter says as he scratches his balding head. Even though he's combed his hair over to try and hide it. Jokes on you man, you aren't fooling anyone.

L. He’ll be rolling on your ass when he smacks you down, Nerissa. Laugh now. Cry later. I picked up a vibrator. My gaze roamed its eight-inch length. I fondled it, caressed it, touched its cloak, made of the softest silicone and lightly threaded with simulated veins, such as a real cock would possess. While the burnt-orange color doesn’t exactly make me want to rip my panties off at the moment, I know whose penis was used to create the mold for this. It’s supposed to be a company secret… Behold! I hold in my hand Whispering Cock!

Justin ran down the street not caring about how he looked or if people stared at him as he staggered, his view blurry from too much crying and the tears which hung in his eyes. His throat equally was very hurtful from crying. His skin was grazed by the chilled air. His world has crumbled "again".

She planned on watching television till she was exhausted but her plan was ruined. She can't use her phone either, every social media platform was talking about Malia’s party too. Why is the whole city obsessed over a dumb party? Of all parties, it's Malia Parish’s party. The door to her office opened and she groaned without looking at who it was. “I told you to leave.” She yelled. “But I just got here.” A familiar voice said, she opened her eyes and turned to see Dexter. He was dressed in a tuxedo which meant he was coming from the organisation.

“He thinks we’re his family. Isn’t that a riot? He seemed to think of Linda as his wife and me as his daughter. Earlier, when he brought you in, he knocked on the door of my cell and said, ‘It’s a boy! Congratulations, you have a new brother.’” Patrick placed both hands on the wall, his head still leaning against the plaster. “Who is this guy, Clare? Do you have any idea?” “No. I’d never seen him before that night in the park, and I have no idea what his name is. He told me and Linda to call him Big Daddy. Like in that stupid old play we read in English class, something about a cat on a roof. You know the one I’m talking about?” “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof by Tennessee Williams,” Patrick said, th