Something Worth Saving

by Mayra Statham

  “Are you crying?” he asks me in a weird voice.

  Embarrassed at being caught, I turn my head away and shrug my shoulders. I’m hoping he will just go away. This is my place. Nobody ever comes here. I want to be alone. But instead of leaving, he sits down next to me, facing me.

  “What’s your name?” he wants to know. I keep my face averted and shrug my shoulders again. “I’m Cole,” he says. I stay silent and watch as I let the sand run through my fingers over and over again. He still doesn't leave. Instead, he tells me about himself. He just moved to town a few days ago. Into one of those big, old houses I love so much on Old Hollow Street at the other end of the woods. He is twelve and going into grade six after the summer. He was exploring the woods behind his house when he saw me sitting here. He wishes he had a dog. He would name him Cash and he would be an Australian Shepherd. I’m not sure what that is, but I do love dogs. I keep listening to him, quietly watching the sand running through my fingers as he tells me about all the adventures he and Cash would have. It sounds like they would be best friends and have a lot of fun together.

  I wish I had a dog to be my friend. That had been my birthday wish.

  Thinking about that makes me cry again. I try to wipe my tears away without him noticing, but of course he notices and asks me in a sad voice, “Hey, did I say something wrong?” I shake my head and stay quiet. He stays quiet with me for a while until I stop crying, and it actually feels nice to have him sit with me.

  When my tears dry, he repeats his earlier question, “What’s your name?”

  This time I answer him. “Lizzy,” I whisper.

  He smiles at me and holds out his hand to me. “Hi, Lizzy, I’m Cole. Pleasure to meet you.” That makes me giggle and I take his hand. He shakes it then lets it go and gets up. I realize he is going to leave and that makes me sad. Before he leaves, though, he looks down at me, still smiling, and asks, “Wanna meet here again same time tomorrow?” I think about it for a minute while I look up into his blue eyes and then nod. His smile grows wider. “See you then, Lizzy,” he says, then turns around and leaves me with a smile on my face.

  From that day on we were inseparable.

  Dropkick My Heart by Winter Travers

  Powerhouse M.A. Series

  Book 1

  © 2017 Winter Travers All rights reserved

  Chapter 1

  Kellan

  “Left, Ryan.” I shook my head and watched Ryan punch to the right. “Your other left, Ryan.” In my fifteen years of teaching martial arts, I discovered left and right was a concept that was hard learned by anyone under the age of ten, especially when they were just excited to be punching and kicking the shit out of stuff.

  “Okay! Lock it up.” I stood in front of my class of twenty-five under belts and watched them all fall to the floor, eagerly looking up at me. I waited for all eyes to fall on me. “Good job today, guys. We need to work a bit longer on delta, but for only working on it one day, you guys are killing it.” Clinton raised his hand eagerly, and I tipped my chin at him. “Go ahead, Clinton.”

  “Mr. Wright, when are we going to get to put all of the combos together?” he asked meekly.

  “As soon as we learn them all,” I assured him. Clinton asked the same question every class. The kid was the most eager to learn, but he had the attention span of a squirrel. I surveyed the class, then looked over the crowd of parents waiting to pick up their kids. “Now, remember that belt graduation is in three weeks, and you need to have your homework turned in before. Otherwise, you don’t graduate.” Everyone groaned at the word homework, and I couldn’t help but smirk. They didn’t have any clue how much homework I had done to reach sixth-degree black belt. “Everyone up,” I said, motioning up with my hands. “And bow,” I ordered, placing my hands at my sides and bowing.

  All the kids started running up to me, giving me high fives and then scurrying off to their parents.

  “Is Mr. Roman going to be here next time?” Carrie asked me as she high-fived me.

  “He should be. He had a couple of things to do today and couldn’t make it to class.” Like sleeping until noon and screwing me over completely. Thankfully, it was the last class of the day, and I could hopefully find some time to sit down for five minutes.

  Finally, the last parents left with their kids, and I locked the door behind them. I loved classes on Saturday, but they were exhausting when I was the only instructor.

  The phone rang on the desk, and I knew it was Roman with some lame-ass excuse for why he didn’t make it in today. Roman and I were business partners with Dante and Tate, but most of the time, it was all on me to make the school a success.

  Roman’s name flashed on the caller ID, and I picked up the phone. “So, what’s your excuse this time?”

  “Ugh, I’m fucking sick, man.”

  I shook my head and sat down behind the front counter. “That’s called a hangover, Roman. Drink some fucking coffee, and get out of bed.”

  “Nah, man. This is worse than a hangover. I think I got food poisoning from the burger I ate last night at Tig’s.” Roman moaned into the phone, and I sighed.

  Food poisoning from Tig’s was a definite possibility. “I guess you should stop eating nasty shit while you’re getting shit-faced every night.”

  “It’s not every night,” Roman grumbled.

  “Sure, keep fucking telling yourself that.”

  Roman sighed. “Look, I was just calling to tell you sorry about not coming in today. If you wanna take off next Saturday, you can. I’ll take care of the monsters all by myself.”

  “Nah, don’t worry about.” I made the mistake once of trying to take off a Saturday. Roman had called me halfway through the day, and I could barely hear him over yelling parents and screaming kids. I ended up coming in and spending most of the day putting out fires he had started between yelling at the kids and telling the parents to shut it while he was teaching. “Just get better, and I’ll see you Monday night.”

  “What time do classes start?”

  I closed my eyes and counted to ten. “Four. Same as every Monday,” I reminded him.

  “Got it. I’ll be there.”

  I hung up the phone and sighed. Roman was one of the most talented guys I knew when it came to karate, but his adulting skills were severely lacking. At the age of twenty-eight, he should have his shit figured out.

  When Roman, Tate, Dante, and I opened Powerhouse, we expected to help kids the way we were taught when we were young and just starting karate. Roman, Tate, and I began karate at the same time and worked our way through the belts together. Dante was a red belt when we were white belts, but he took us under his wing, and we all became close friends.

  While Dante was almost ten years older than most of us, I was the highest black belt. Dante was a second-degree black belt, while Roman and Tate were fourth-degree. I was going for my sixth degree this year.

  We all came together to start the school, because we all had our own specialties that, when put together, created a karate studio unlike any around. Dante was an international sparring champion six times over, while Roman and Tate were geniuses when it came to kamas and bo staff. I rounded us out with my expertise in forms and people skills the three others lacked at times.

  The school had only been open for six months, but Dante and Tate already thought we needed to open another location. Not only had Roman bailed on me today, but so had Tate and Dante to go look at a space two towns over for a new studio.

  I was in the minority when I said we should just focus on the Falls City school. Dante and Tate had decided between themselves that if we were doing so well here, another studio would be a goldmine. I didn’t think they were wrong, I just wanted them to slow down, and wait for all of us to agree.

  I threw my phone on top of a pile of new student paperwork and propped my arms on my head. I pushed off on the floor and spun around in the chair. Most days, it was hard to believe this was my life, and today was another one of those days. Dante, Tate
, and Roman were my closest friends, but sometimes it felt like everything rested on my shoulders, while they were off somewhere enjoying life, and spending all the money we were making.

  The days we didn’t have classes, I was giving private lessons, or working on lesson plans for each class. Most of the time, the Kinder-kicker class was like herding a pack of cats that were all hyped up on catnip, and the Little Ninja class wasn’t much better. Although, I still tried to teach them forms and basic karate to help them get to white belt. Once the kids hit white belt, things became more serious, and I buckled down on the curriculum.

  The highest belt level we had right now was an orange belt, but in the stack of paper on the desk, there were three kids wanting to transfer over to Powerhouse. One of them was a purple belt, and the other two were red belts. I was rather shocked the two red belts wanted to transfer schools when they were close to being black belts, but I knew it was because in the short time we had been open, we already had a reputation of being the best.

  If you were even a little bit into karate, you would have at least heard of one of us. We were the best, and we had the trophies and medals to prove it. That reputation was bringing in students left and right, but I couldn’t keep doing this on my own anymore.

  But, I wasn’t going to stress about that right now, because a knock on the front door made me jump, and I turned to see my next private lesson through the glass.

  My five-minute break was up, and it was back to the grind.

  Someone had to make Powerhouse a success, and that someone was going to be me.

  Aldin’s Wish by FG Adams

  Enchanted Immortals Book 1

  Prologue

  Peru, South America

  In the bowels of the great mountain Huayna Picchu in Peru, the cool moist air drifts heavily throughout the intricately woven caves of blackness, a never-ending labyrinth with a stale stench of death permeating from the slight air flow seeping through the tunnels. Walls of slippery, wet rocks with sharp, jagged edges from centuries of mineral deposits and eons of erosion continue the maze. Lifeless.

  In the underground makeshift tomb well below the Inca ceremonial Moon Temple, a figure stands hunched over, waiting. Muted light filters throughout the grotto from the two lit torches perched at the entrance. Decay seeps from the exposed skin of the man. No, not man—monster. Flesh rots away from the bone, piece by piece, like a dead animal left in the woods for weeks.

  A sizable obsidian stone hangs from the ceiling in the center of the room, angling down toward the solitary rock-sculpted altar. The black gem is called the Abgrund Stone, better known as the Infinite Abyss which holds all the Night Realm power.

  “திறந்த எள்” Open sesame, the man whispers into the subterranean tomb.

  The lone figure turns his head to the entrance as a bright light flashes, and the sound of heavy footsteps rumble through the cavern. He watches as a huge, shadowed frame steps into the cave burdened by a large bundle over his shoulders.

  “Did you retrieve what I desired, Jafar?” the decaying man croaks from the middle of the cave.

  “Yes, Your Majesty.” The figure bows while balancing the heavy load.

  Walking over to his master, the man lays the massive bundle carefully out across the stone table set in the center of the room, mindful of his actions.

  “It is just as you wished, Your Majesty. He is thirty-five human years old. A Vampire youngling. He’s been turned for only ten years.” Jafar looks eagerly to the rotting man, expectant and hopeful.

  The dark cloak is pulled back to reveal a strikingly handsome specimen. Long black locks surround a narrow face. The Vampire’s tan color and high cheekbones give away his Indian heritage.

  “Ah, Jafar. You have done very well this time.”

  Jafar bows again, then reaches inside his pocket to retrieve a tattered black and white photo. “I found this on your new body, Your Majesty. It bears a striking resemblance to Maarku.”

  A decrepit hand reaches out to snag the photograph. Peering at the tattered paper from deteriorating eyes, the man studies the picture. Two men are standing side by side, one with his arm draped over the other, his gaze showing a look of fatherly admiration and warmth toward him. As he examines it closer, a sinister smile spreads across his face.

  “Yes. Yes. I believe you are correct, my old friend. This is most certainly him.”

  Evil laughter erupts from the crumpled remains of the man, pinging off the walls, echoing through the cavernous space. Soon Jafar joins in.

  “We finally have him, Jafar. And I now know his weakness. Come. We must begin the ritual immediately. We have much to do and little time to do it in.”

  They prepare the body lying on the stone table. After stripping him naked, they cuff his hands and feet. Jafar scurries around prepping while the man leans laboriously against the table. When all is ready, the ceremony begins. With shallow breaths, he commences with reciting the incantation:

  “ஓ இருள் அதிகாரம் நான் உம்மை வேண்டிக்கொள்ளுகிறேன். நான் கடவுள் Zenon மற்றும் அம்மன் அகஸ்டா சக்தி அழைப்பு விடுக்கிறோம். டார்க் நைட் அதிகாரம் வெளியிட. இருண்ட ஆன்மா பள்ளத்தை நரகத்தில், Abgrund ஸ்டோன் உள்ள இருக்கும். என்னை மாற்றம் சக்தி தாருங்கள். அவரது உடல் ஆன்மா, உடல் ஆன்மா மாற்றம், என்னுடைய.”

  (“Oh power of darkness, I beseech thee. I call upon the power of the god Zenon and goddess Augusta. Release the power of the dark knight. The dark souls existing within the hell of abyss, the Abgrund Stone. Grant me the power of transformation. Transferring soul for soul, body for body, his for mine.”)

  Lost Without You By Tracie Douglas

  Chapter One

  Where It All Began

  Kingston Cole

  4 1/2 Years Ago

  "Tatum, I told you a hundred times already," I bark into the phone, "I’m done with you. So, unless you're calling me about my kids, I don’t want to hear from you."

  "King, baby, I know you don't mean that."

  "Woman, you can’t be this fucking stupid." I run my hands over my face, trying to ease my growing frustration. As much as I want to believe she's putting on an act, I'm beginning to realize she isn't. She doesn’t believe this is happening. "Sign the fucking papers, Tatum."

  "I love you, King," she whines over the line. I cringe, trying to ignore the way her voice grates on the last of my nerves. "One little fight, and you're throwing in the towel. Come home. We can work this out."

  "What exactly can we work out, Tatum? Tell me, because you know who I am and you know what I do. I know what you’ve been doing behind my back. I don’t see how we can work through any of this when you keep inviting men into the bed we share." I hear a silent gasp and know my accusation has hit its target. But I’m not done, because it’s going to take laying it all out for her to really understand what’s happening and why it’s happening. "I don’t want a woman I can’t trust to keep her legs closed when I’m off doing my job. We don’t love each other. I don’t think we ever did, honestly. There’s nothing to work out; there hasn’t been for a long time. Now, sign the fucking papers so we can both move on with our lives and I can be rid of your ass."

  "You’re making a mistake," she chokes, but I'm not having any of it. I'm done.

  "No, Tatum, you made the mistake when you let another man stick his dick inside you. Love or not, I would’ve stayed with you until the end, but you went and fucked that up yourself." The thought of her scrawny body crawling back into my bed after letting another man touch her makes my stomach sick. To think it’s been happening for the last few years makes me crazy inside, so much so, I had to leave town. I had to get away fr
om her before I did something I couldn’t undo. "Sign the papers."

  "But the kids—"

  "Will be fine," I cut her off again, essentially telling her she can’t use the kid card with me anymore. Truth is, I've known about her indiscretions for a while and I’ve stayed as long as I have because of my kids. It wasn’t until my daughter asked why her mother and I always fight, why I hate Tatum so much, that I realized how unhealthy life was becoming for them. I packed my shit that night and filed the papers the next morning. Our children, though young, were relieved. Mom and Dad aren’t fighting anymore, at least not in front of them. "Sign the fucking papers."

  She starts to say something, but I can’t listen to her bullshit anymore, so I end the call.

  Tossing the phone aside, I lean forward to rest my head against the steering wheel. I take a deep breath, pushing my frustration back into the tiny little box I have marked special for her. The woman knows how to push my buttons, always has. I take a moment to think back, trying to remember why I tied myself to her in the first place. She was a one-nightstand who was barely a blip on my radar. Hell, the details are so fuzzy I barely remember that night at all. I was on leave and drunk off my ass; she was some bar fly looking for a quick roll in the sack. Who was I to complain over easy pussy? If she hadn’t ended up pregnant, I wouldn’t have ever seen her face again.

  Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case, and two months later, she tracked me to down on base and broke the news. After a blood test to prove the kid was mine, I did the honorable thing and married her. I was young, dumb, and beyond naïve to believe it would work out between us. It wasn’t long into our marriage when the problems first began.