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Murdered in 1925, Katy Watkins, an eighteen-year-old debutante, finds herself near a worn-down cabin. She doesn’t know where she is, so she heads home and discovers two strangely dressed girls in her bedroom window. When her memory does return, a demon hunts her—this demon is her killer. She walks in the woods trying to get home, stuck in a loop until she meets Lila and Rose. Sixteen-year-old, bipolar Lila has disappointed her family. It was hard for Lila to cope after her father’s suicide, which soon forced Lila, her mom, and her fifteen-year-old sister, Rose, to live with their aunt and uncle in Parkville, Missouri. They discover a ghost tied to an old murder mystery, and Rose begins to film a documentary at a nearby cabin. Rose is possessed by Katy, which makes her sick. In order to save Rose’s life, Lila and Rose help Katy uncover the truth regarding her murder: she was murdered by her sister, not her fiancé as they first suspected. After Katy forgives her sister, she crosses over. Katy’s sister cannot forgive Katy so she remains a demon wandering in her hell forever. Lila and Rosa see their deceased father when Katy crosses, and they forgive him, freeing him from his prison.

The key to magic is the first chapter of the fantasy series ”The Kingdom of Wizards - The Seals of the Altior”. Is a book that embodies the simplicity of descriptions and the vivacity of action. This story takes the reader in a fantastic medieval enviroment in which battles, magic and spells are protagonists.<br><br>Baltdeon is a young boy who finds himself enlisted at the behest of his father, among the recruits of the great order of the Paladins of Hombros. His dream of becoming an alchemist seems to be shattered step by step as he approaches the Arx Lupus military outpost with the supply wagon. He and his companions are led into a cycle of battles to defend the garrison attacked by an army of orcs, victims of an ancient spell, confined by a magical barrier. Forced to violate the code of honor of the military order they have sworn allegiance, they face the first dangerous adventure of their life that sees them protagonists in the theft of an ancient relic. The real challenge of these young people will be the chosen path: surviving their art, saving lives is their mission, realizing their dream is the ultimate goal. Battles, spells, hidden sorceries, betrayals, magic, kingdoms and empires, castles, fortresses, cities and villages are the outline of a range full of events and twists.

Welcome to my story. This book is a mere collection of nightmares, without any pretensions but to let you enter the intricate folds of my mind. I think everyone has experienced nightmares in their life, whether asleep or awake; I can well say I am an impressive expert on sleeping terrors. Close-eyed nightmares are my personal curse: I have been having them since I was a child, and I could never explain the reason why. My childhood was always related to the fear that something catastrophic was about to happen, either to me or to the people I loved. I usually felt something akin to a cold breath on my neck that made my hair stand on end; that icy, slimy hand touching your back which makes you startle, aghast. Oftentimes my vision went completely dark, so that I had to go and lie down on my bed in order to feel more at ease; yet, even entering my bedroom I dreaded what would happen when I finally closed my eyes. Things did not improve at all in my teen years: every time, soon after a dream I woke up in a sweat, shivering. After such nights I obviously had to face life again like everyone else, though still doubtful about my future; but it was whenever I had personal choices to make, that the nightmares worsened. At those times my life easily became hell; I closed myself off entirely and always wondered what I had achieved so far and what I wanted next from my life. Over time I have come to write my dreams down in order to understand them, alongside my wishes, to see if they come true. This has helped me shed some light more than once. But back to nightmares. I then thought to myself that I would tell you all about my terrors, embellishing each one and including them in a collection of every spine-chilling thrill I have ever experienced. I apologise for this chilly gift on my part, but my mind likewise is as cold and messy a place. It is the mind of a woman, of a fighter who openly faced evil, and chose to talk about it. Though my words could sometimes wound the more susceptible souls, I do not mean to claim the moral high ground over any of you. Everyone has their own worldview; we feel and shape everything around us accordingly. And after all the ordeals I have endured through life, I now strive to use my inner eye in order to create a more fruitful vision of the future. I would like to see a future full of dreams, studies, travels: dreams are basically wishes our hearts make. As to nightmares, though... Close-eyed nightmares have always been my speciality, and there are several reasons behind this phenomenon, but the main one is probably that I am a tolerant person, yet emotional and sensitive; over the course of my life I have in fact experienced both thorns in my side and many a rainy day. But I have always sought light to illustrate this part of me, so I will tell you of my favourite poem: Mother to Son, by Langston Hughes.

Autumn Willow is a grad student at MIT. In her spare time, she co-pilots her grandfather’s B-17, a restored WWII bomber. Sasha Brezhnev is a pilot for the Russian Air Force flying the SU-57 fighter jet. She’s assigned seek-and-destroy missions over the Safandel Desert in central Anddor Shallau, where terrorists are covertly working to destroy the country’s democratic government. Rigger Entime is an engineer working on a CIA project to develop a tiny drone aircraft to be used in surveillance and possibly carry out assassinations of terrorist leaders.

In order to survive her childhood, Vanya Erickson was forced to become fluent in two languages: her Christian Scientist mother’s honeyed versions of the truth; and her rancher father’s hard-as-the-scrape-of-his-bootheels words, which stung like the back of his hand. Long version: From the outside, Vanya’s childhood of riding horses with her father in the solitude of the Sierra Nevada Mountains and attending flamboyant operas with her mother in the city looked idyllic. But life for Vanya was more about learning to gauge and survive her parents’ unpredictable actions - from being left to lie in her own blood-soaked diaper while her Christian Scientist mother prayed, refusing to get medical help, to watching her father writhe on his bed in the detox ward, his hands and feet tethered with leather straps. Vanya the only way she knew how: by immersing herself in the beauty and solitude of the wilderness around her.

This diary is my third book, an exploration of urban and suburban environments to observe humans and modern objects. Representations in philosophical or mathematical form in order to find the right amount of motion, the proof that good is a higher feeling than an evil, the right repetition of always the same things to confirm that here one cannot say the false is even less realize it.<br><br>This diary is the third book written by me, an exploration of urban and suburban environments to observe humans and modern objects. Representations in philosophical or mathematical form in order to find the right amount of motion, the proof that good is a higher feeling than an evil, the right repetition of always the same things to confirm that here one cannot say the false is even less realize it. A certain practicality that can be associated with a manual on socio-political rights, then the different forms of exit from a modern unhealthy or incorporeal being. The becoming of one's own experiences, of one's own dreams in their reality, without basic problems to confirm an overall human evidence, finally the transfer of social and anthropic material so much contested in these years after the year two thousand. The period of the twenty-one letters contained reaches from December 2008 to July 2010.

The Citizen Journalist- We often forget how much power the bureaucrats have over the media. The first step towards population control is to control the media. It gives you power over public perception. The corruption in these areas is worse than ever. This story is extremely relevant to the corruption and politics that currently exists within the United States. I'm with Kola on this, there should be only one way to report the news – the truth. The Invalid Citizen- Another poignant and politically motivated story. In our greed, expansion, and desire for innovation we often overlook the consequences on the environment. It is easier to forget the extent of this when you live in an urban area that has been developed for centuries.<br><br>A woman was in labour. Some people on the street could hear her screams. Those who could empathize with the excruciating pains she must be feeling took some moment to say a little prayer for the patient while others spared glances at the hospital. After hours of prodding labour, the nurses and doctor delivered the woman of a baby boy. The baby was very big. The woman had a big tear in her vagina. She bled irrepressibly. She fainted several times and the doctor reinstated her with shocks. She was losing lot of blood. She was a believer that blood transfusion was not of God. Her husband prayed for God‟s intervention. “Mr Jason, you need to agree to this transfusion in order to save your better half. You do not want your first child and this new born to be without their mother,” Doctor Greg said. Mr Jason pondered for some minutes. “No, I do not want to lose my wife. I cannot bear it. Please give her a blood transfusion,” he said. Mrs Jason was adamant, “Jason, why are you of little faith? I don‟t want a blood transfusion.”

It’s Christmastime in Merritt, Alabama and magic is afoot!Professor Bebe Wellesley comes from a long line of psychics, but has inherited just enough of the family gifts to make her peculiar, rather than of very much use. The handsome bookseller who is so proficient at obtaining the obscure texts she needs to teach her college parapsychology classes caught her eye a while back, but why bother? She’s learned the hard way that men don’t like women with a supernatural bent—no matter how paltry their power.In an age when independent bookstores are nearing extinction, it takes all of Byron Masters’s time and energy to keep Creekview Books relevant and successful. He knows he must be crazy to finally pursue smart, pretty Bebe Wellesley at his busiest time of year, but he’s tired of flirting and watching her walk out the door.From their first date, Bebe can hardly believe her luck. She and Byron clicked with a harmony that she never dreamed possible. If only she can keep her “little something extra” a secret, she might be looking at happily ever after.Life seems perfect until Christmas decorations mysteriously begin to appear in Byron’s apartment. Convinced the culprit is a member of his staff, Byron begins to alienate them one by one with his accusations. Bebe knows different, but would he ever believe that the vintage Santa ornament he bought came with a benevolent spirit attached, who just wants to spread some holiday cheer?As Creekview’s once pleasant and thriving atmosphere disintegrates, dropping customers along the way, Bebe is unable to sit by and watch everything Byron has worked for unravel. She prepares to drop the bizarre bomb, bracing for the worst, but hoping for the best.Will Byron be the man who can accept her as she is?Or is it going to take some Christmas magic to save them all?

The silence had already taken hold of each of the rooms in the house, so much that sometimes it was difficult for me to go there, where so many things had happened in the family. At the beginning I turned on the television or the radio, to listen to a voice wherever I was in the house, and that made me feel better, but then, it seemed so absurd, deceiving myself, it was like I was with somebody, when there was nobody left. Joys, sorrows and sadness, listened in every corner of that home, in which my wife had always worked with such care to maintain order and cleanliness.

The Dragonfly and Monarch are tiny drone aircraft designed to resemble actual insects. They can flitter around military installations and terrorists’ camps without being noticed while they collect video data about these installations and the people in charge. On their first mission over an isolated stretch of desert, their remote pilots, one American and one Russian, are drawn into a strange struggle to survive. In their attempt to retrieve their disabled drones, the pilots discover a shocking secret about themselves.