“So what do we do when Grace City is clean?” “It’s never clean, John. They multiply like rats, move in where they want, and establish a new Conductor every time.” Sabine’s feet dangled off the edge of the building. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” John turned to take a long look at…
“Remember how I told you dawn could be worse than nightfall? More frightening?” Sabine sat at the end of the bed, towel wrapped around her, shower smells of floral and balsam a clinging aura. “Yeah, I do. Seems like a long time ago,” John was dressed, looking clean and neat in his sweats. He tried…
“You’ve got blood on your face.” John breathed a huff of laughter through his nose and wiped his face with one of the towels. The blood bags, as Sabine called them, had run off for home or wherever they’d come from. “This is something I could do every day,” he said, folding up the towel…
“I kind of wish holy water would work. What about garlic?” “Nope. Hang on to your wooden stakes and be sure to keep them in there when you cut off their heads. All else fails, use the flamethrowers.” Sabine pointed to their packs. John’s eyebrows raised. “Flamethrowers? Why don’t we just use these in the…
“So that’s it?” Sabine pushed her empty plate aside and focused on her coffee. “That sucks, John. I’m sorry for the bad pun and for your loss. Best friends are harder to lose than lovers in some ways.” John shook his head. “I don’t know about that. I mean, she was never my lover, but…
“I told you, don’t be stupid, John.” Sabine shook her head, dark eyes disapproving. “You don’t just waltz into a Rhapsody and start shoving stakes in hearts. Well, you do, but carefully.” She handed her flask to him, his hand folding over hers as he took it. “This holy water?” Sabine scoffed. “Vodka. Holy water…
“Dawn is far more frightening than nightfall if you think about it, John,” she said, flicking the ash of her cigarette onto the ground. “I mean, look around. The dark keeps our secrets. The dark lets us really be free. People say if you shed light on the monsters, the monsters aren’t so frightening. Maybe…
Since last week I wrote about my progress with Mercy Hospital, I thought this week I’d publish a bit about what many new writers dread: ideas for a story that don’t go anywhere. Thanks to a constant reader for requesting this installment theme. “Where do you get your ideas?” is likely the most common question…
