“The nanites appear to be rewriting your DNA, which is not what we programmed them to do. They’ve gone rogue.” I stood frozen as I stared at my hands and watched my skin change color.

Our latest poetry collection is now available! If you’re torn between what version to get, the print version is illustrated, the ebook is not.

He clicked on the arrow, and the room filled with a low hum, the sound of a captured moment coming to life. On the computer screen, I watched myself—a digital ghost trapped in pixels and light—doing exactly what he'd described.

The explosion rocked the lab's foundation, sending shockwaves through the steel walls and shattering beakers. I was standing near the center of it all, an old blood-stained photograph clutched in my trembling hands. Across from me, tethered to a whirling energy nexus which swirled like a tempestuous storm, was Evelyn--my former best friend.

Her heart pounded with a rhythm that echoed the relentless pursuit. Armed with alien tech, they had transformed hunting into an art of efficiency. They’d find her in a matter of minutes. She was their prey. But she wasn't going down without a fight.

We hadn’t planned on making an audiobook. But as we told friends and family about the publication of our debut novel, the one question we were asked over and over was: Is it available on audiobook. I, myself, listen to audiobooks constantly because I rarely have the spare time to sit down and read—I’m always multitasking. And I guess everyone else is as well. So we decided to give it a try and see how it turned out.

The starship was very damaged. Only one person could both get it moving again and fix the shield. Unfortunately, he was in a medically-induced, cryogenic coma, initiated to protect him from a virus that would normally kill him in around three days. With the clock ticking, I knew I had to act fast to save the ship and everyone on board. But how? 

The ink on the page was barely dry before the bullet ripped its way through my temporal lobe. A dull, wet pain exploded across my skull and I cried out in agony as the darkness crept up from the pit of my stomach and engulfed me. As I slipped away I was vaguely aware of the sound of the gun being re-loaded. That noise was the only thing now holding my attention of my fading consciousness. As I drifted off into a dark, peaceful oblivion, I remember thinking that I should've been more careful with the words I'd written.

Magic gifts are rare, and they're a closely guarded secret for mystos—the name for those who possess such abilities. Wyatt Glasson's talent is speculomancy—an uncommon type of magic that grants him the ability to see any reflected image. Modern civilization and its reflective surfaces mean people are always in view of Wyatt's magic. And he's used that advantage to create a wealthy, insulated existence for himself, tucked safely away from magical society. After all, being powerful offers little protection when you're part of a tiny minority who would rather cut your throat to protect themselves than back you up and risk their safety. But Wyatt's comforatble life is about to be turned upside down.

"What should we do with the body?" John asked as he nudged the corpse with his steel-toed boot.

"Which one?" Michael asked, backing away from the gruesome scene literally spreading across the floor.

John squinted at Michael, disbelief evident in the set of his face. "The human one."

"Where's Mom going with that gun?" Ashly asked as her brother poured milk over the bowl of sugary flakes sitting in front of her. Ashly was a diminutive, dark-haired girl with big blue eyes. Her seeming innocence belied her hard life, and her small stature made her look younger than her thirteen years. She wore a pair of worn jeans, a t-shirt with a cartoon character on it, and dirty pink sneakers that had seen better days. Her small hands were clasped in her lap as she watched the door click shut behind her mother.

Liam slid three quarters into the vending machine and weighed his options. He didn’t even curse. He simply grunted—a caveman noise conveying his primal dissatisfaction with the immediate turn of events. Or at least that’s how it registered to his ears. However, having shrunk to a fraction of his normal size, the sound he emitted was more like a gruff squeak. If he’d had any other way to evade his pursuer, he would’ve taken it. But desperate times called for tiny measures.

I closed my car door and heard the reassuring chirp in response to depressing the lock button on my key fob. I slung my backpack over my shoulder, lunchbox in hand. I paused for a moment to take in the view. From this height, it looked as if a spider had spun a fragile web of lights in the yawning dark below.

A Humorous, Flash Fiction, How-To Guide

If you are a Boomer or Gen X, you live in a new age filled with possibilities and peril. As with any thriving member of the species, knowledge and preparation are key to your survival. Millennials are the largest generational cohort, and non-Millennials or “underperforming” Millennials must adapt in order to remain relevant. First, focus on your verbal disguise.

Double Vision is the title for our debut fantasy novel

Because of you Sweet Poison became a #1 bestseller on Amazon!