Good morning, everyone!
How did you all like the premiere of The Walking Dead? I enjoyed the heck out of it, ninety minutes of tension, and just when I thought we were getting a nice moment… boom!
The woman in this week’s story starts out in a nice, familiar moment, too — stopped in her car at a red light, listening to the radio, with her window rolled down. It’s the last nice moment in her life.
I hope you enjoy THEY LIE.
Published by Thunder Valley Press
Copyright 2011 by Annie Reed
Cover Art Copyright Tomislav Pinter | Dreamstime.com
The writers of books like Twilight, of television shows like Buffy and Angel and Forever Knight.
There’s no romance. No love. No quests for redemption or pining for companionship or longing to become human again, and no damn sparkling in the sun. There’s only darkness and fear and an all-consuming hunger that obliterates whatever’s left of your poor, screaming soul.
If you let it.
My maker pulled me out the open window of my car when I stopped for a light on a lonely country road late one night. I’d spent most of that night watching chick flicks with my best friend, Chelsea. I haven’t seen her since. It’s a struggle. I don’t need to be invited in, and I know the way back to her house. Even if I didn’t, I could still find her. I know her scent.
I’m not sure why I stopped at that light. Chelsea lives out in the sticks. Nothing but flat farmland for miles. I could see enough of the road to know that no cars were coming in the other direction. No cars at all, but I’ve always been a good girl. A rule follower. So I stopped and checked for headlights. Unbuckled my seatbelt for a moment to straighten out a twist while I listened to some inane pop song on my radio.
Then I died.
(read the rest of the story here)