The Sweet Sleuth: A Culinary Conundrum
In the heart of the picturesque town of Cherryvale, where the aroma of freshly baked goods wafted through the streets like a tantalizing melody, there lived a young pastry chef named Oliver. With his apron tied snugly around his waist and a twinkle of determination in his eyes, Oliver was renowned throughout Cherryvale for his exceptional baking skills and his unwavering passion for all things sweet.
The Painter's Legacy
In the picturesque village of Painterville, where the rolling hills were blanketed with vibrant wildflowers and the air was perfumed with the sweet scent of honeysuckle, there lived a humble painter named Thomas. His cottage nestled among the tall trees at the edge of the village, where he found solace in the beauty of nature and inspiration for his art.
The Forgotten Key: A Tale of Intrigue and Redemption
In the heart of the bustling metropolis of Stonebridge, where towering skyscrapers reached towards the heavens and the streets buzzed with the energy of a thousand lives intertwined, there existed a building unlike any other. Tucked away on a quiet corner, its weathered façade held the secrets of a bygone era, whispered tales of a forgotten past.
The Unfinished Manuscript
Detective Richard Jansen drove home in his Ford pickup truck to Huntington, New York. He parked and got out of his vehicle, his short grey hair slicked back. He wore his jeans with a black blazer over a white t-shirt. His black Oxfords were polished to perfection.
The Archive: Part Three
The heels of Warrick’s boots clicked against the floor as he walked over to where she sat. There was too much noise in the hall now for Jadzia to hear the echoes anymore. It wasn't deafening, but it managed to drown its own echoes.
Agent Johnson’s feet rhythmically pounded the pavement. She wouldn’t let him get away with this. Deep inside she knew this was the end of everything she knew, her job, her partner, the country she fought so hard for, she would have to run from it all but he had to pay. Her breath came in even, lean muscles burning with the exertion. Adrenaline blanking her mind as she saw his heel disappearing around the corner. She had caught up, he had to know. She slowed down and pulled her gun from its holster. Turning to clear the corner he slammed into her. Falling back to the concrete, her neck snapped back, her head slamming into the pavement. Stars blossomed across her vision. But Lissa trained this a million times and muscle has memory. Her arms went up to guard, her legs shifted underneath them, and she thrusted her hips up and sideways. Stryk was off balance, sliding sideways onto his shoulder. Her vision was still blurred, and she could taste the metallic tinge of blood in her mouth. She quickly rolled away from his body mass and gained her feet. But Stryk had seen where her gun had slid, and he didn’t waste time to gain his feet. He bear crawled and by the time her vision cleared, he was halfway there. She bolted toward him, the world moved in slow motion as his fingers gained the trigger. He rolled and she saw the barrel of the gun. She felt fire go through her shoulder as the bang thundered through her head. She stumbled and the second bang. It was like hot iron through her gut, that had turned into a fist as it blew out her back. As she collided with him, it was with minimal effort that he pushed her to the ground. He stood, staring down at her as blood pooled out onto the pavement. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she was in shock. It didn’t hurt anymore but a bone chilling cold settled across her. He was talking but she couldn’t hear him. She tried to roll onto her hands and knees but crumpled into a fetal position. And her hands hit the cold metal handle on her thigh. She remembered the day Tim had given her the knife, 5 inches of 1095 steel sharpened to a razor edge, and they had joked. But she knew that day that she loved him. She knew and she would never be able to tell him. Stryk crouched over top of her, grabbing her left arm and pulling her up to stair in her face. Sound came rushing back, as he finished his rant, “Agent Johnson, you lose.” He grinned, and with every bit of adrenaline that still flooded her body, she slammed the knife hard into his neck. It entered in just to the side of his Adams apple. Continuing the motion, she slammed the handle backwards, so it pivoted in his neck. She knew she had succeeded when the arterial spray coated her hand. Severing both the carotid and jugular he would bleed out in seconds. His eyes were wide with shock. He fell away from her grabbing his throat. She turned away from him, lying back on the pavement. Sirens sounded, but she couldn’t tell how far away. The ground was slick with blood all around her and she was so cold. She didn’t know how many minutes past, but she could feel the foot falls on the ground, hear the rapid voices… and he found her.
Eye on Her – Chapter One
It was a dull evening, and no one was in the city. She was driving a vehicle after the party; she dropped every one of her companions and began music behind the scenes; her speed was higher than her typical speed; she crossed the distance of 5 km from the party setting; she saw one man before her vehicle, and he was going to fall in the event that she was unable to press the breaks of her vehicle. The hints of horns had not irritated the man, and she in a real sense might have hit him inside a negligible part of seconds.
The Unfinished Manuscript
Robert Quine's manuscript lay scattered on the desk. His wife—Clara Quine—stood there staring at the many messy pages, tears welling up in her eyes.
She thought back to the waiting room. So long ago when she had made the decision to let death chase her. And chase it had, through the underground, through prophecy, through the wars, she watched the eastern coast burn as they ran. She ran, death at her heals… dancing with her… sometimes so close, it whispered in her ear. And now, it chased her across the water. She felt the ship sway and she starred back at the woman in the mirror. Her hair was streaked white, pulled back in the worn clip. She didn’t remember getting old, it just kind of happened. And just as she couldn’t see how incredibly gorgeous she was in her youth, she couldn’t see how distinguished she was in her age. She held the cloth to her mouth as she coughed. When she first got sick, she hid it well… But the cough became uncontrollable, and the rumors spread like the disease in her body. At least the black handkerchief hid the blood. She took a shuttering breath and turned on her heel. Long ago she shed the poised dresses for more practical clothing. If you plan to outrun death… Her tight black leggings hugged her still muscular legs. But her curves had been lost to the disease. She concealed the loose skin beneath a tunic of blood red and wore a slightly heeled leather boot. Her two guards flanked her as she exited her quarters. Her assistant sat with the wheelchair. She moved too slowly now, too unsteady on the rock of the ship to walk. They maneuvered through the narrow corridor and out onto the deck where the sun beat down mercilessly. She was greeted with the cheers that broke her heart and lifted her spirits. Here were her people, who loved her. Her people, who were half starved, beaten, but not broken. Here were her people she loved. The prophetess came and knelt before her. She raised her eyes to Nichole and gave her a tearful little smile. Nichole returned the smile. Brushing her hands across the young girl’s cheek. “None of that. Tomorrow, we land in the forgotten place and the people need you.”
There are things worse than wolves in those woods, trust me. When you hear their howl, run. Chief Ranger Talin’s warning echoed in her memory as Liv crawled on hands and knees through the undergrowth. Ahead of her, little Tivar crawled with the eagerness of a puppy. If her parents caught her out of bed and beyond the gates...That thought annoyed her even further. Her fourteenth harvest drew near, and yet they insisted on treating her like a child still.
Chapter 1: The Call To Adventure
Derek's gaze swept across the dimly lit room, a glimmer of anticipation in his eyes as he half-hoped, half-feared that his ex-girlfriend might make a surprise entrance into the club—fully aware that this was one of her favored haunts. The pulsating rhythm of the music and the energetic atmosphere added to the tension that lingered in the air.
Aermith smiled brightly while examining the fireworks. If his daughter was happy, then so was he. Avina had only ever heard fireworks go off, so seeing them up close was something she never thought she’d ever experience. Those standing all around had clapped their hands together while more explosions went off in the sky.