Love Match

Copyright © Emmi Lawrence

All rights reserved. No part of this story may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without permission from the author.

Short Story (Approx. 2800)

She was one of those shy girls, you know the type. The one in her group of friends who has to be cajoled into going out, who sits by herself, pretending to have fun, but who really can’t understand how this is supposed to be the epitome of youthful exuberance.

Not Eros’ type at all.

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Thawing Off

Copyright © Emmi Lawrence

All rights reserved. No part of this story may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without permission from the author.

Short Story (Approx. 3600)

Bradd leaned against the shelf as if he owned it, fingers lightly playing with one of feathers sticking out of the vase. Long fingers, both deft and steady when he bothered to work.

Cerci could tell he was watching out of the corner of his eye. Watching her as she measured out the hage nuts and ground them. Watching as she laid out fickle thorns and carefully cut their heads off, letting their dangerous innards smear across the waxy leaf before putting the entire leaf into the pot.

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Heart’s Harvest

Copyright © Emmi Lawrence

All rights reserved. No part of this story may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without permission from the author.

Short Story (Approx. 2400)

He painted her lips first. Gently, the brush dipping into the crevices. Her breath hot on his hand. Her mouth trembling slightly.

“It’s an honor,” he whispered. Routine words. He’d said them so many times before, but now they caught in his throat as she gave him a humorless smile.

“You don’t have to pretend, Wes,” she said. “You don’t have to say anything.”

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Snow Man

Copyright © Emmi Lawrence

All rights reserved. No part of this story may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without permission from the author.

Short Story (Approx. 1900)

She first shaped him like a man out of boredom, packing down the snow so she could mold it better. The round balls she’d started with slowly turned into hips and thighs below a long torso. His fingers were difficult, the digits constantly wanting to fall apart, but she managed to convince them to stay on when she threatened to melt them if they didn’t cooperate.

When she stepped back, she laughed at how clumsy the snowman looked. Not even as good as the strawman she had built to walk her gardens during summer. So she laughed again, deciding to have some fun.

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