We seated ourselves on a bench. He scribbled away in his notebook, noting the Gothic architecture. Then the word "vampire" caught my eye. I chuckled at the absurdity of it all. The monster he was eager to create was seated next to him. I glanced at the throbbing vein in his neck; my fangs descended. As if on cue, a heavy fog rolled in from the harbour with the veil of white mist offering cover for my evil deed. Internal...
We both want, an old-fashioned, wide-screen, Technicolor epic romance, a real Bogie and Bacall number. Instead, what we got that night was two old friends so smashed they started making out at a levee party. "What in the world were you dreaming about, lady?" Amy Marshall opened her green eyes, pushed back her floppy straw hat, and looked up at Mark Cahill, her life-long friend, the man she’d just been dreaming about. "No...
