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The worst part was the silence. Death was supposed to be loud — gunshots, explosions, screams and thunder. Not this eerie quiet that wrapped around me like a shroud.
Karen Chance
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Karen Chance
Age: 24
Born: 2000
Born: January 1
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Writer
Orlando
Florida
Part
Scream
Gunshots
Like
Loud
Shroud
Supposed
Shrouds
Quiet
Eerie
Silence
Screams
Worst
Explosions
Death
Wrapped
Around
Thunder
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I stared at him, unable to believe this was happening. That he could just disappear, along with everything rich and strange he’d brought into my life. Vanished, like magic.
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Fresh blood at midnight isn't red. It's a purplish black that easily blends into the shadows.
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Stercus Accidit. [barren happens]
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Prevarication, how divine! I always did get along better with sinners.
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Nobody said anything that time. Or maybe I just wasn’t listening. After all, someone had to keep an eye on the fridge.
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I left it with a warmer,” he said drily. Because war mages ate their fried chicken frozen to the ground and they liked it.
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Can we just do this?” Ray asked tightly, clinging to Zheng’s already slightly elongated arm. Because Louis-Cesare wasn’t the only one with a master power around here. “Let go,” Zheng told him. “I’m the rubber band you’re the spitball. And spitballs don’t hold on to rubber bands.” “Die in a fire,” Ray told him savagely. But he let go.
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It's about time! It's supposed to be a ritual, not a marathon.
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And then Mircea finally let me down, only to get his hands inside the coat and push me against the wall. I'm dirty, I protested. He waggled his eyebrows. Promise? Mircea! I laughed in spite of myself.
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He’s a war mage. They’re almost impossible to kill.” He scowled. “Even on purpose.
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Great. I'd been dumped in Hell's waiting room.
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you gotta think it’s a waste of—” “Ray!” I glanced around, but there was nobody within earshot. “Well, excuse me if I’m not used to buying condoms for aliens,” he said more softly. “They’re not aliens.” “Well, they’re not human. I mean, they could have anything under those tunics, you know?
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Pritkin and Mircea mixed like oil and water, only not so well.
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Where. Is. He? Alphonse repeated, although it sounded more like Don't make me eat your face.
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I’d never known that anyone could kiss in English, kiss in apologies.
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My body cheerfully informed me that he felt really good pressed against me like that, all hard muscles and smooth contours and ominous bulges. My body liked the air of barely leashed strength and caged mayhem he was giving off. My body thought he smelled really good, like heat and coffee and electricity. My body was going to get me killed.
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You love me? He just looked at me for a moment. And then he reared back his head and laughed, a rich, mellow sound, unreserved and unashamed. No, not at all. I regularly battle gods for women I dislike!
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