Halloween Reads

Mornin’, Creeps!

Today is my favorite day of the year. I love the costumes and the candy and everything else that goes with it. But I also love the history of Halloween and what it symbolizes. And it helps that Rocky Horror Picture Show will be on later this evening. It appeals to the creepy and the corny in me. More than anything though, I enjoy the  atmosphere: thrill of terror, the anticipation that comes with a well-told story. It’s hard to please me because I’ve spent so much time reading and researching, but I have to say there are still things out there capable of making me hide under the covers. I’ll be taking my little girl trick or treating tonight, but until then I have some time to kill.

Which means I have a treat for you… the creepiest list of books you’ve probably not heard of. Click on the titles to check them out.



by Alexandra Christian


It’s available once again, but this time as a free read on her blog.
It’s an odd little tale of love and obsession in a funeral home.
Poor Caroline is a talented reconstructive artist, but her unrequited love for Scott may have dangerous ramifications.


by Selah Janel


Historical. Lumberjack. Vampires.

This is an amazing book. I know the premise sounds a bit quirky,
but trust me…it’s worth a read. It’s sort of fascinating to learn how a vampire survives in a different age.

Death’s Dance

by Crymsyn Hart

Death's Dance

Grim Reapers, ghost hunters, and plot twists… oh, my!

This is a fun, quirky horror read with a good smattering of humor.  Anything
goes in a ghost town when nobody’s looking.

The cover is pretty awesome too.

State of Horror: Illinois

edited by Jerry E. Benns

State of Horror Illinois

A solid, creepy collection of stories. I bought this one at a convention a month and a half ago and
have been working my way through it and it’s sister anthology about New Jersey.
So far I’ve not found a single story I didn’t like. There’s guaranteed to be something for everyone in these books.

Hellscapes Vol. 1

by Stephen Zimmer


I reviewed this collection of horror novellas awhile back so you may
recognize that creepy cover. Each of the stories is set in the character’s own
personal form of hell. Some are sad, some are frightening, and some are oddly poignant.
FYI, Drowning in Tears will break your black, little heart.

The Sticks

by Andy Deane

The Sticks

Most people now Andy Deane as the front man of goth band Bella Morte,
but he’s actually a pretty damn good writer too. This is currently one of
my favorite werewolf books, and the voice is so vastly different from anything
else I’ve read lately that I constantly come back and find myself rereading passages.
My only complaint? I wish it was longer.

Cinema of Shadows

Cinema of Shadows

by Michael West

I love this series. I’ve read the first two so far and the third is on the TBR pile.
It’s creepy and entertaining, and there’s nothing better than psychics and haunted movie theaters.

The Spirit Box

by J.H. Glaze

The Spirit Box

Definitely an interesting one. There are so many occult detective
stories out there these days, but this one is definitely among my favorites. I’m definitely
curious to see what else John Hazard gets into in later installments.

Southern Haunts: Spirits that Walk Among Us

edited by Alexander S. Brown & J.L. Mulvihill

Southern Haunts

A very good, very eerie collection of ghost stories. Every story in the book
is set in the south or southwest, and some of them provide interesting insight into local folklore.
One of the authors gave me a copy and I’m now on a quest to collect autographs. Yes, I’m a nerd. Shut up.


by S.H. Roddey

Haunted by S.H. Roddey

And last, but not least…

So I’m plugging my own book? So what? It’s good, I promise.
We have ghosts, possession, creepy pseudo-incestual feelings,
and beer for breakfast. What’s not to love?

So there you have it… go forth and be frightened. Happy Halloween, y’all!

jack o'lantern


TCM Presents: Death’s Dance By Crymsyn Hart

Death's Dance Tour Badge

Well hello again!

It’s time for another victim…and this one, well, she’s near and dear to my black little heart. She’s a writing buddy, a friend, a partner in crime… and she’s one of the lovely Seventh Starlight Angels. I love this chick. She’s awesome. I should probably tell you who it is, huh?

The lovely Crymsyn Hart is with me today to talk about her new horror novel with Seventh Star Press, Death’s Dance. So take a seat, have a drink, and listen to what she has to say. On, and you might want to leave a light on. Just sayin’.


Death’s Voice


The Handwriting on the wall. Six Feet Under. Keeling over. All in…

Basically Death.

Let’s face it, we are all going to die. I’m not trying to be morbid and I’m not fixated on death or dying. I just have a thing for grim reapers. Why? Well…I’ve asked myself that question many times. First, off I’m a Scorpio so according to my astrological sign I’m drawn to death. Chalk up my pull toward death with my ghostly encounters or my psychic abilities, who knows. But I can say I did have a profound experience that pushed me in the first of liking reapers.

A friend of mine let me borrow her copy of Our Name of Melancholy by Leliah Wendell and I read it when I was nineteen. It took me a while because it’s a dense book, but the subject matter stuck a chord within me. Was it real? I don’t know, but the author wrote with conviction and it just felt right. It hit home so much I went to New Orleans and met Leliah, briefly collected her artwork, and the Tarot deck she did. However, the most interesting experience I had was well, my own encounter with death. I won’t go into details, sorry folks, but it was a spiritualty moving moment and cemented my view and attachment to death.

I took Azrael and made him more than an archetype and constructed a story around him to make that part of him mind and wove him into the Soul Reaper Series, but the more I wrote other books in the paranormal genre, the more Azrael popped up to remind me was one of my muses and that death is everywhere. Over eighty books later Azrael is in at least half of them, building a little bit more on his previous appearances and giving me more insight. It was a clear progression from there that I would write about grim reapers.

And that is how Death’s Dance was born. My “obsession” with death doesn’t drive me to sleep in a coffin, although I have one in my dining room, or invite reapers over for dinner. I’m not killing people, in real life, I just wanted to give Death a voice.

We all have one, why can’t he?


About Death’s Dance

Death's Dance CoverBeing a psychic, you would think talking to the dead was a walk in the park. However, it’s not always that simple. The hooded specter haunting me is one I’ve been dreaming about since I was a kid. One day, he appeared in my bedroom mirror. Good. Evil. I don’t know what his true intentions are.

Enter Jackson, ghost hunting show host extraordinaire, and my ex, to save me from the big bad ghost.

From there…well…it’s been a world wind of complications. My house burnt down. I’m being stalked by an ancient evil and gotten myself back into the world of being a ghost hunting psychic. Jackson dragged me, along with a few other psychics, to a ghost town wiped off the map called Death’s Dance.

From there things went from bad to worse.


Death’s Dance Buy Links:

Amazon           Barnes & Noble          Kobo



About Crymsyn Hart
Crymsyn Hart

Crymsyn is a National Bestselling author of over seventy paranormal romance and horror novels. Her experiences as a psychic have given her a lot of material to use in her books. She currently resides in Charlotte, NC with her hubby and her three dogs. If she’s not writing, she’s curled up with the dogs watching a good horror movie or off with friends.

Website: http://www.ravynhart.com
Twitter: @crymsynhart
Blog: http://www.crymsynhart.blogspot.com
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/crymsynhart
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Crymsyn-Hart/e/B002BMJ1Z0/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1405515745&sr=8-1
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Don’t miss the rest of Crymsyn’s Tour!
Check it out at Tomorrow Comes Media!

Thursday Shenanigans!


I love that word. It’s fun to say, and saying it means having fun.  For those of you that don’t know, there are LIVE Shenanigans on Thursday nights. Alexandra Christian, Crymsyn Hart, and I have a standing date on Thursday evenings at 7pm at the Starbucks in Rock Hill, SC. It’s a writer’s group of sorts, in that we’re writers and we get together.

I say that because the topic of today’s Shenanigans Post is just that: Writer’s Groups.

Let me preface this by saying the following: THIS IS MY OPINION. THIS IS ONLY MY OPINION. This is my personal take on this topic based on my experiences and the experiences of my friends. I am not belittling anyone or attempting to cause trouble. I am stating an opinion.

Now, shall we begin?

When it comes to writing groups, I have to say I’m not a fan. I mean yeah, I love the idea of getting together with my writing friends and discussing the craft and our books over a cup of coffee, but when we get together, we’re doing so in the spirit of…well…shenanigans. We’re there to have fun, to vent our frustrations, and to get things done. But we’re not a traditional writing group, nor are we a critique group.

Granted, if I email the ladies and ask them for an opinion on something, I’m going to get it. But that’s not what this is about.

There’s another group of writers that meets in Starbucks on Thursdays from time to time. There are about eight of them, and they’re very serious about it. They come in with their manuscripts and their sharpies and determinedly comb over each other’s work. I applaud them for their dedication to their group and their cause, even if I don’t agree with it. That sort of writing group, in my experience, often causes more harm than good. I’ve seen good authors have their confidence ripped to shreds, often by people who have no business picking up a pen. I’ve witnessed meltdowns and accusations of plagiarism. I’ve seen friendships destroyed.

I guess at this point what I’m saying is that writing groups – people who get together to write and share experiences – are fine, but critique groups are a bad idea. And let me tell you why.

1. Jealousy: Not every person in a critique group is at the same level when it comes to talent and experience. Often I hear horror stories about how wonderful authors are beaten down time and again, their work ripped to shreds and completely bastardized by their fellow critiquers, and it always boils down to jealousy. The ones that are violently mean are usually the ones that know their limitations but refuse to admit them. I hate seeing anyone get hurt, especially by those they consider friends in the industry. Jealousy breeds contempt, and people can be cruel and spiteful.

2. Plagiarism: Let’s face it, not every person on the planet is on the up and up. More often than not, critique group horror stories involve some fool stealing someone else’s work. I’ve seen it more times than I care to. But then again, if celebrities (ahem, Shia Laboeuf) aren’t capable of keeping their fingers out of other people’s intellectual pots, who says us normal schlubs have to do it? PLAGIARISM IS WRONG, PEOPLE! It’s every author’s worst nightmare, to wake up and find that someone has stolen our work and potentially profited from it in some way. I only share my unpublished work with my nearest and dearest – as in people I know and trust not to run off with it. I’m leery of handing whole chapters of my work over to relative strangers because I don’t know what’s going to happen.

Now that I’ve pissed off everyone in the room, let me end by saying that yes, every author needs a strong group behind him or her. while having strangers read your work can provide interesting insight, the writing process itself should be supported by those who will support you, not tear you down. Speaking from experience, it’s nice to have people there to bounce ideas off of, who can talk me down from the Delete-Key ledge, and who remind me that no, writing isn’t easy, but I don’t want to be doing anything else.

Just my thoughts. And I can say from experience, I wouldn’t trade my ladies for the world.

Keeping Up (Public) Appearances

That’s right, ladies and germs, I’m going to be turned loose on the world again!

This one is a little different, kids. This appearance is right here in my very own stomping grounds.  In conjunction with the “Haunted Chester” event coming up this weekend,  There’s all sorts of spooky nonsense going on that weekend, including a live paranormal investigation, courtesy of State Paranormal Investigations. But just between you, me, and the lamppost, the biggest fun is going to be on Saturday, October 26th.  A group of us local authors will be out at the Chester County Library selling books, signing autographs, and doing that authorly thing that we do. Want to know more? Keep reading.




Author Event – Saturday, October 26, 2013

2:00 – 4:00 PM

Chester County Library
100 Center Street
Chester, SC 29706


Lucy Blue
(Romance Author)

Alexandra Christian
(Paranormal Romance Author)

Marcia Collette
(Author of Urban Fantasy, Young Adult, and Paranormal Romance)

Crymsyn Hart
(Paranormal Romance Author)

John Hartness
(Urban Fantasy Author, Editor of The Big Bad Anthology of Evil)

Tally Johnson
(Author of historical SC Ghost Lore)

Nicole Kurtz
(Author of Women’s FIction and Owner of Mocha Memoirs Press)

S.H. Roddey
(Urban Fantasy/Horror Author, Romance Author – as Siobhan Kinkade)

A Bloody Valentine: Crymsyn Hart

Welcome back for another taste of darkness! Back today is the lovely Crymsyn Hart with a short story for your wicked pleasure.


The Fifth Stroke of Midnight


With the thwack, Collette jumped in her velvet restraints as the tip of the whip grazed her right shoulder leaving its faint sting. A black satin mask was the only article of clothing she wore. The cool air caressed her nakedness raising the fine hairs along her nubile flesh. Everything about her was alert, waiting for the Mistress to punish her for all her bad behavior. And she had been wicked.

Roxanne examined Collette’s body with experienced eyes, watching for the subtle beating of the heart to increase, for the skin to take on the first blush of unfilled pleasure from only the sound of the whip. Her slave was beginning to tremble in the velvet fetters, from fear, from the anticipation of what she was going to do to her. Was she going to be merciful and punish her captive with only the sound of the crop? Or zebra stripes showing the others how insubordinate she’d been? Roxanne draped the bullwhip around her shoulders, running her hand slowly up and down the leather handle. Her eyes drank in every curve of the supple flesh before her. The alabaster-smooth texture of the flesh was virgin pure except for the long scar that ran from her right shoulder, down the arc of her spine, and onto her left ass cheek. The mark was old, white and raised. Roxanne had first run her fingers over the imperfection, knowing it was the mark of one master. One that had been hers eons ago. Everything laid on Collette hadn’t fazed her until she brought out the bullwhip. It was the first time she’d seen Collette tremble with expectation. Her nipples pink and hard.

Now her hand wandered over the whip’s hard shaft as she flicked the other end like an impatient cat’s tail. The tip hit her thigh-high latex boots. She could brand her poppit with a sister trophy, but Roxanne didn’t want to break the girl just yet. She desired Collette begging, crying out for the whip to never stop licking her skin. The sharp pain would penetrate the flesh, zinging to all the pleasure centers of the body. Even Roxanne’s tits wanted the leather to fondle them as she strained in her latex corset. A bead of sweat formed on her upper lip. Her tongue caressed it slowly and she shifted her weight as her sex moistened at the thought of the bullwhip. But she mustn’t get too carried away; she was the Mistress now, no longer the slave to her own whims.

Roxanne tested the whip’s weight finding the right grip on the handle.


She snapped the empty air. Collette jumped and moaned at the sudden sound. Roxanne saw the insubordination and grabbed the puppet’s mahogany hair and wrenched her head back.

“Is that what you want, my lustful bitch? Do you want its searing hand on your flesh? Or do you want it in your cunt? Tell me or you get nothing.”

“The pain, please,” her slave moaned.

Roxanne smiled and released Collette, running the whip under her nose. The perfume of leather and oil mingled as the smoothness ran over her lips, and she remembered the first time the whip nicked her; the first time her master let her handle the implement. Oh, so many wonderful memories. Many times had she been under the wanton ecstasy of the leather, had the aroma of the oil on her skin, and like her petite slave, she had her own trophy, a twin to the mark on her own back, given to her by the same master.

She let the whip trail between her fingers, letting her own memories slip away as the candles flickered.


One flick and the tip licked her slave’s skin. A drop of crimson appeared and a thin line dimpled across the small of Collette’s backside. The quick bite sent spasms throughout the victim’s body. Collette felt the warmth between her trembling thighs with her pussy growing wetter and wetter. She’d waited so long she would burst at one more painful lash. An eternal string of nights had passed her by without feeling the lick of the whip, the tempting pain that bought her to ecstasy in one, long, never ending strike.

As the leather formed like a second flesh and ripped open her body, too long had she been left without the bliss of the connection and then the sweet burst of air that left her breathless. Her body was slick with sweat. Her cunt was moist from its touch. Now as it connected again, she welcomed the pain. Her hands clenched and unclenched in the velvet restraints. Blood welled in her mouth as she tried to tame her swelling pleasure. Her legs wobbled as her muscles tensed from the orgasm about to rip through her body.


An evil smiled caressed Roxanne’s lips. Collette was coming, trying to hold back from the pleasure of the flogging. All her nerves were hot and alive. So close to midnight and with one more stroke she’d be hers. Crimson rivers meandered down the alabaster landscape as the wounds sealed and dried in seconds. It was what she loved about Collette’s kind. They understood pain and pleasure. They knew how to embrace their bodies’ biology and revel in punishment. The only drawback was she lost them to their animal selves once a month. But right before their change was when they were prime.

Just like Collette.


The whip caressed her slave and her legs buckled. Moans escaped her lips even though she tried to suppress them, but it was too much. Collette’s wanting crashed over her, consuming every thought. Body glistening with sweat, hair in her face, and the smell of her sex filled her nose. Another lash was all she wanted, was all she needed to be tamed.

“Please. Oh please,” she whimpered.

Her mistress stared at the drying blood, capturing her insides. Her own need rose and caressed her. The whip slipped from her fingers. Roxanne wrapped her hand in Collette’s hair and pulled her slave’s neck back. One hand glided over sweat shimmering tits, kneading them while her tongue stroked her throat letting the beat of life intoxicate her more than any memory of lashings, of the fiery sweetness of the whip. Her hand found Collette’s naked cunt. Her gloved hand slid into the depths as her poppit gasped at the cool latex, but Roxanne yanked her hair back hard building the pressure again for her captive to come. Lips parted reveling ivory fangs that separated flesh and gave her the elixir of life as her bitch moved against her, coming, changing.

The restraints ripped and the slave’s moans became howls, but Roxanne held on as Collette’s spine cracked and bowed. Blood ran hot in Roxanne’s cold body, jump-starting her heart as she released the wolf that fell to fours.

Rubbing against Roxanne’s thigh, Collette gazed up at her mistress with the whip in her teeth, careful not to bruise the leather. Roxanne wiped her glove across her mouth, getting rid of blood that stained her lips.

“Good bitch.” She patted the wolf’s head.

She ran her hand the length of the whip, feeling its warmth and the suppleness. Her grin widened and her teeth flashed in the candlelight.

A thunder crack split the silence and a howl pierced the night as a clock struck midnight.


More Crymsyn:


A Bloody Valentine: Crymsyn Hart

Welcome back, my Creepies…

Want a taste of the poetically gruesome? Then you’ve come to the right place. Up next on our agenda is the lovely Crymsyn Hart with a bit o’ dark poetry for you. Beautiful, really. Enjoy!


Haunted Heart

Meandering the windy paths of my heart,

The emotions are hard to find.

Traversing darkness, I uncover the beast, and yet,

It cannot be tamed.


Rescue is futile. I’m already lost –

Chasing nightmares twisted into brambled labyrinths that my feet are set upon.

The further I go, the longer the shadows become, full of monsters, half-thought creations, never come to full fruition.

They stalk me, haunt me,

scream their desires until I am left drowning.


The road ahead leads to a tunnel, but there is no light at the end.

Never will it end this twisted cacophony of feelings that have become music to be devoured by my so called lovers.

They pull me forward on this alleged thoroughfare, trapped me with their whimsical charm until I am bound, tortured, forced to do their whim.


Bound  to a post, stripped rare and bare, bleeding crimson tears.

They deceive with pretty words, but I know the truth from what pours out of their warped maws.

Only I –

begging for release that will never come.


Want to know more about Crymsyn? Check her out:

Website: http://www.ravynhart.com
Blog: http://crymsynhart.blogspot.com
Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Crymsyn-Hart-Fan-Page/115120201850089



This thing is becoming a monster, I see. For the last 29 weeks, indie authors have been tagging each other around the ‘net in a crazy game of leapfrog. If you’re reading this, chances are you found me on Stephen Zimmer’s blog, since he was the one that tagged me last week. SO, without further adieu, I give you my Next Big Thing.

About me first – I’m a full-time administrative professional, wife, and mom who dreams of being a full-time author. As to what I write, that would be a bit of everything. My first love is horror, but I’ve been known to drift into the realms of epic fantasy, urban fantasy, and even romance from time to time.

For this particular post, I’m going to use a rather interesting work in progress… It’s the first book in a series, and I’m in the process of writing a proposal for it so I can submit it! Here goes nothing… ten questions. And… GO!

1: What is the working title of your book?

Anyone who knows me knows I’m a flake and suck at titles. The working title is “New Olympia Rising” because it’s the first in the “Annals of New Olympia” series.

2: Where did the idea come from for the book? 

This book is actually a sort of history for another book that will come later in the series. THAT book spawned from my first attempt to write a sword & sorcery story for Seventh Star Press’ Thunder on the Battlefield anthology call. It grew until there was no way it would fit into the 10,000 word limit, and I’d started writing the history to keep myself straight. The rest, as they say, is history.

[Insert cheeky grin here.]

3: What genre does your book fall under? 

There are too many to choose! This particular story is a combination Science Fiction / Space Opera with a bit of the apocalypse thrown in for good measure. Later books shift more toward post apocalyptic sword & sorcery, then back to Sci-Fi, all with that post-apocalyptic fantasy spin on the whole thing.

4: Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

I don’t even know! My main character in this story, Doctor Steven Jackson (who goes by Jax in most cases) looks most like Julian Sands.  So far I’ve picked faces for two other characters – Katharine McPhee and Anton Yelchin.

5: What is the one-sentence synopsis of your book

Long-distance space flight, man’s greatest dream, is realized only to find out that it might truly be his worst nightmare.

6: Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

I definitely intend to submit it to a publisher, but I prefer to do it myself. I really sort of love being an indie author – I get to call the shots, even if getting stories picked up prove a bit harder.

7: How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

I’m still working on it!  I started this particular book in December, and hope to have it completed and ready for shipment to whichever publisher I choose to threaten by mid-summer.

8: What other books would you compare this story to within your genre?

I really don’t know… it’s so off the wall that I’m not sure I can come up with a single book to match. It has a bit of the technical feel you find in The Andromeda Strain with a bit of Star Wars thrown in for good measure. You might even add a sprinkling of Orwell’s fantasy just for fun.

9: Who or What inspired you to write this book?

If I had to lay the blame entirely on one person, it would have to be James Tuck, who happens to be the editor for the anthology that spawns the whole thing. Really it was a perfect storm of things – the opportunity, the crazy idea, and the fact that I suffer from Epic Brain Syndrome.

10: What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

It’s a blend of genres that transitions from one end of the spectrum to the other. My characters are ordinary people thrown into extraordinary situations, and I take the dreams of millionaire moguls like Richard Branson and pitch them far enough into the future to make them real. Of course, there are always consequences to any action………

Unfortunately I don’t have another author to tag… everyone I know has already done it. I hate that it has to end here, so instead I’ll point you in the direction of three fantabulous writers who you should definitely read.

1. Alexandra Christian – who is also participating this week. She writes paranormal romance, and she happens to be one of my best friends in the world.

2. Crymsyn Hart – who also writes paranormal romance. She and Lexxx help me haunt our local Starbucks at least one night a week.

3. Selah Janel – another of those absolutely wonderful people who keeps me grounded while also stroking my ego. She’s another hybrid like me who writes all manner of things.

Things Writers Say

We’re an interesting breed, us writers. We have wild imaginations, and I suppose that sort of predisposes us to the craft. After all, if you don’t have the creative willpower to make shit up, how are you going to write whole books? There’s a dirty little secret behind the finished products that the world at large gets to see… and it’s the random weirdness that comes out of us when we’re off the page.

For amusement (and because I’m apparently a masochist and enjoy having my friends threaten my life), have a look at some of the crazy conversations we have. I’m not giving context on these, so just enjoy them for what they are.

CONVERSATION ONE: Selah Janel and me:

Me: okay…enough whoring.
Selah: lol
Me: maybe one more…
Selah: meh, I have to put on pants eventually.
Me: pants are good in public.
Selah: yeah, i know. and in the winter.


Selah: all right…time for me to put on pants.
Me: enjoy your pants.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

CONVERSATION 2: Alexandra Christian, Crymsyn Hart, and Me:

(I wasn’t part of this one…just a witness. It still amuses me)

Lexxx: Azrael and Scarlett won’t have sex yet. *sigh* assholes…
Crymsyn: lol That is the way it goes sometimes. And I am happy to say I did not cut and paste.
Lexxx: I’m sure it’s fantastic.
Crymsyn: oh, yeah… yawn
Lexxx: yawning?
Crymsyn: well writing sex can get so boring…

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

CONVERSATION 3: Kharisma Rhayne and Me

Kharisma:  ya know i’m just teasin ya..right
Me: Of course. I don’t take you seriously.
Kharisma: hahahaha…sometimes I am serious tho lol — it just hurts
Me: Being serious usually isn’t fun though.
Kharisma: Any clue what that dude is talking about? *color me confuckled*
Me: Not a clue… and I’m not sure I want to know. If he’s implying that he has two penises he’d be a huge hit with the fetish crowd, but a little too freaky for normal people.
Me: confuckled?
Kharisma: my word for confuse…. kinda confused in a sorta fucked up way
Me: Strange. I like it.
Kharisma: Iz not strange
Me: Yes you are. It’s one of your most charming traits.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

CONVERSATION 4: Selah Janel and Me
(because our conversations are so stimulating…)

Selah: I think a time lord came to our last show.
Me: Do what?
Selah: This random dude in a long coat and big hat with a really long scarf showed up on his own then left as soon as it was over.
Me: Bizarre… maybe he’s scouting you for a new race of humans.
Selah: Possibly…either he didn’t want to hurt my coworkers’ feelings or I’m not companion material.
Me: Or he’s reporting his findings to their council. After all, the target isn’t supposed to see the scout on the first trip.
Selah: Aah, this is true. He played it off by asking about show times, but I’m onto him.


So you see… writers, when left to their own devices, are not always the smooth wordsmiths you come to expect. We’re rarely, if ever, normal. But one thing’s for certain – we’re always entertaining.