*Note: Takes place right after Willow and Oz’s breakup in Wild at Heart (Season 4, Episode 6). What if the scene didn’t end there? What if Willow stopped Oz before he drove away? Would she be able to convince him to stay? Or maybe…convince him to let her leave with him?
Willow ran out of Oz’s room, ignoring Devon’s startled shout as the two nearly collided in the hallway. Her tears blurred her vision, but she had long memorized the layout of Oz’s off-campus house. Sprinting through the hallway, she pivoted at the staircase and zoomed down the stairs without losing speed. Her thoughts raced with her. He better not have left yet. If he was going to break her heart, then he should at least let her yell at him before leaving with the pieces.
She threw the front door open. Oz’s blue van slowly pulled away from the curb, and Willow screamed out. “DANIEL OSBOURNE!”
Stephen King said, “If you want to be a writer, you must do two things above all others: read a lot and write a lot.” Well, since the scorching New York heat is providing a good reason not to go outside my air-conditioned-existence, this seems as good a time as any toTake On The Goodreads Summer Reading Challenge.
I’m reading my way through the Beginners list and wanted to share with you all. Feel free to share your thoughts too!
THE BOOK IS BETTER: READ A BOOK BEING ADAPTED FOR TV OR FILM THIS YEARRead More »
Dean Winchester cruised down the empty highway in his black 1967 Chevy Impala, the notes of Led Zeppelin blasting from the car radio.
“Can you turn that down a bit?” His brother Sam asked from the passenger seat beside him, a laptop in his lap and a leather-bound book whose pages were yellowed with age propped on the dashboard.Read More »
“I now know, you must endure things you cannot endure, be worn out by the things you cannot accept, that there are nights when your eyes are brimming with tears. And daresay I know… what you’ve dreamt of, and what you’ve lost.”
The chalice lay toppled on the shelf, its contents dripping onto the desecrated crime scene. Crumpled in a heap below was the unsub, the white frothing at his mouth a stark contrast to the crimson pool in which he lay.
Floating in a perfect circle around him were the bones of his latest victim, bobbing in and out of the blood like rotten apples.
They expected a gruesome sight, but that didn’t prevent their stomachs from churning like they all rode the worst roller-coaster of their lives, the minute Agent Derek Morgan kicked down the suspect’s door.
The smell bombarded their senses, reeking of ripe feces and rotting flesh. Amputated limbs were strewn around the room like grotesque Lego blocks. The wooden floor was a sticky mass of blood, and the agents detected what looked like a wayward eyeball and squishy piles of intestines dispersed throughout.