The Many Half-lived Lives Of Sam Sylvester Novels & Stories

"But I guess we have to try before you return to your real life again." Indeed, Samantha's a real gem. I loved her spirit. I thought to myself with a smile making its way to my lips. "You're right. We have to try." "As your eyes and ears, er— I guess you have my first mission in mind?" She raised an inquiring eye at me. "I do." I responded. "I'm ready." She told me with a determined look in her eyes. "I want you to talk to Eros Valentino My husband, and tell him I'm alive. If you're lucky enough, you will meet my psychotic twin sister, taking over my life and my company in Italy."

I didn’t even grace him with an answer; besides, my mind had already moved on to what I was going to tell her to make sense of this whole mess. “Sam’s still alive.” That lit a fire under his ass, and gone was the laidback attitude of a man with no cares. “Where is he?” I think he forgot his hands were tied since he tried jumping out of the chair. On the other hand, did he really think we just went around killing people? He seemed surprised that I hadn’t, in fact, taken Sam out. I wonder what that says about the man he’d become. He hadn’t said much, not more than a few sentences, but he’d told a whole life story. One of the things I got from it was that he was no longer the young man he used

Sam trailed off as he crossed his arms over his chest defensively, oddly never moving from the step that he was standing on. "It's not because of you, love. So keep your ego in your pocket," Sylvia replied with a smile and a wink. It was obvious that Sam and Sylvia knew each judge, but I honestly didn't care about that right now. "You're the new Supreme, aren't you? Gram isn't just gone. She's not missing. She's dead," I whispered as I looked at Sylvia. It was the first time that I noticed how hippie-ish she looked with her flowing bohemian skirt that was made from patches of fabric with different floral patterns and a loose-fitting black tank. She wore an anklet with tiny hollow balls that

My blood ran cold. “It entices you,” Sylvester continued. “The water... It’s not just water. It pulls at your mind, your heart. Shows you what you want, what you regret. Some hear voices. Others see visions.” “And if you fall?” Dominic asked. “You die,” Sylvester said flatly. “It’s that simple. No one survives the fall. The cliffs are too high. The blood… too deep.” I looked at the trail again. It wound along the cliff like a serpent, its stone damp and uneven.

The silence within its walls echoed the void in her heart, reminding her of the absence that lingered. “Welcome back home ma'am". Madeleine greets Samara once she walked in. “Thank you". Samara replies, her eyes hovering around the house. “What of Sylvester?" “He took the cars to the mechanic for servicing". Madeleine answers duly. “How was your stay in your hometown?" “It was good, exactly what I needed". Samara eyes falls on Frederick's picture and immediately her eyes moistens. “But I am beginning to doubt that I am as strong as I thought".

"The video is out there. The world knows you're alive. Even if you kill us, you'll be a hunted man for the rest of your life." Silas turned his head to look at her. In the dim light of the tunnel, his eyes looked like two empty holes. "The world has a very short memory, Samantha. Today, I am a ghost. Tomorrow, I will be a conspiracy theory. In a week, I will be a story that people tell at parties to sound interesting. The web is built on the 'new.' It cannot hold onto the 'old' for very long."

"The eggs are a bit hot; endure it a little!" The two were close together, only a fist's distance apart. They could smell each other's breath. A fragrance unique to Samantha lingered in the air. Ethan's breathing became irregular. Normally indifferent to meddling, he blurted out, "What's your relationship with Suzy?" Both had the last name Miller and carried a natural hostility towards each other. It was impossible not to know each other. Samantha, still peeling eggs, grinned self-mockingly. "She is my half-sister from the same father but different mother. My mother passed away when I was five, but she is only half a year younger than me. Irony, isn't it?"

"All the times Mr Reynolds visited Cock and Bulls. It wasn't just for business or pleasure. He was there keeping an eye out for the bad guys." "Yep." "I swear to God. If you say yep one more time, i'm going to stuff that pizza in your mouth till you choke on that word yep." "Sorry." Melinda almost snorted. As serious as the situation was, the alarmed look on Sam's face was funny. Sam couldn't be passed for an emotionally wrecked or frightened girl. Infact, that was the opposite of what Samantha James was to the outside world. Sam was a bold and brazen strikingly beautiful black American lady. Her bright mind was sometimes too old for her twenty four years old body. Seeing this new side to he

“Sam? Stevie said as he walked out of the wreckage of what remained of Shirley’s apartment. Sam dropped the haunted orphan and felt to his knees, eyes blood shot with the actions he had just committed. What have you done?”

{SAM’S POV} Sam was still reeling. That scene inside the mobile home had been so intense, he still couldn’t process it. That creep. The knife. The struggle. His cheek. And then Samantha. Killing him like that. It was unbelievable. Who was she? As he sat in the roadside diner, across from her in a booth, he looked her over. He was more attracted to her than ever—but also wary now. Cautious. She looked totally relaxed, sipping on her vanilla milkshake, and he couldn’t understand. Was this the same chick? Here she was, this totally cool and hot, awesome chick, who he loved hanging out with—and yet she had also been that crazy, psycho girl that totally killed that creep without even blinking an