She found Teller Vanidicus’ eyes once more, and now—now—she understood. He knew about that green, green world, and his mind drifted there. Judith lost herself the same. “That’s what we could have?” She felt the heat of tears falling between her parted lips. “Why would we… How could we destroy it?” 

The universe usually seemed to work in opposition to people’s plans; was he now doomed to fall in love then get divorced then spend his twilight years looking at smiling pictures that now only made him frown?

Red, dripping, bony hands thrust out of the vampress’s chest cavity, shoving bone and meat aside, gouts of red fluid squirting between the gaps. Repulsed, Einar fell back, tearing his gaze from the spindly arms now groping out of the vampress’s body, to her ecstatic face (not an improvement), down to Clover beside him.

I opened my mouth to counter that statement, but had no argument. What did I do with my life? I wasn’t invested in my job. I played games, watched videos, scrolled social media. My outside activities involved others prying me out of the house to participate—otherwise, I wouldn’t have made the effort. I had no hobbies, created nothing for the joy of creating, and took part in no community service. I couldn’t even commit to a girlfriend because it was too much effort, not to mention it would require giving of myself to another.

After the positive pregnancy test, I became something ancient—maternal with my nesting habits and my constant hunger. I watched the body I occupied grow and change, a ship of Theseus rended from flesh. Joy and anticipation replaced desire and pride. The horrible things pregnancy wrought on my body—hyperemesis, preeclampsia—were signs of something greater, a life within my own, an attachment and an arrow pulled back from the bow, ready to snap forward into the future.

The house across the street wasn’t there anymore; there was a jagged hole, like a tooth had been ripped out. An old man, wearing shorts and not much else, had limped past her, bleeding at the head; the bright red of his blood was the only colour Maria remembered under all the dust. 

I leaned in and pressed my lips against his own. They were soft. He kissed back. I know he did. I swear, he kissed me back. And for a few seconds there was only Maverick and Reston—hiding in a bush during recess and locking lips in a safe space. 

In "Ascension: The Jake Matthews Saga," Jake, a blind teenager lacking purpose, is transported to the planet Figueroa to stop The Great Figueroan War. He learns swordplay and unites with allies, including Thalia, to save both worlds. This imaginative fantasy explores themes of resilience and transformation, earning a 5-star rating.

Join us in the artistic and prosaic musings of graphic novelist Natalie Maroukis!

Stimulate your mind with author Elizabeth Scorrazi and her raw, unapologetic fictional flair.

Explore the life and times of poet Leanne Kathleen as we learn about her work "Blank Canvas".

Journey with us across the world to Nigeria as we learn about debut author Adeleke Anuoluwapo and her novel "Whispers of Summer".

Learn about, follow, and Connect with debut author Michelle Campbell and her novel "Just Another Life Lesson".

Irina Angelova is a debut romance novelist, known for her 2025 book "There Are Worse People," which explores love in Macedonia. With experience writing in Russian, she transitioned to English due to her passion for romcoms. Balancing motherhood and a writing career, she seeks to evoke emotional connections in her stories.

Astrid Poplar, also known as Cynthia Russell, is a Los Angeles-based writer focusing on poetry and short stories. Inspired by personal challenges and her imagination, she emphasizes the difficulty of gaining recognition as an untrained writer. Aspiring to publish a novel, she draws characters from various sources and enjoys reading romantic genres and children's books.

“To be admitted to The Academy, so you may train to perhaps become a Majik, of course,” the man explained, looking across at the four teens. “You may start by stating your qualifications for acceptance.”

Forgiveness, she learned, wasn’t forgetting—it was surviving without poisoning yourself.

Jak didn't care much for politics, nor the lives of kings and queens, and yet here he was fighting their war. Deprived of his liberty, forced to fight, forced to kill, forced to die. But through his anger and despair, one vision kept shining through: Martha--smiling and happy and waiting for him to come home.

Morning light advances slowly across the snow, testing surface and contour, revealing texture rather than spectacle...