Murder? You Mean He's Dead?" "no. He's

You Didn't Answer My Question. Are You All Right?" I Didn't Do Anything" Yeah. You Did." He Looked At Me. "you Did A Lot" -chloe & Derek-

A Girl My Age Had Been Murdered In These Woods And I'd Seen Her Last Terrified Moments, Watched Her Bleed To Death In This Forest. A Life Like Mine Had Ended Here, And It Didn't Matter How Many Times I'd Seen Deaths In Movies, It Wasn't The Same, And I Wasn't Ever Going To Forget It.

It Wasn't Until I Was In My Teens That I Started Admiring Writers As Inspirations For My Own Work, And My Earliest Influences There Were Stephen King, Marion Zimmer Bradley And Richard Adams.

We Had One Gun, One Werewolf, One Poltergeist, One Supercharged Spell-caster, One Not-so-supercharged Spell-caster, And One Perfectly Useless Necromancer, Though Liz Was Quick To Remind Me That She Needed Me To Relay Her Words. - Chloe

He Wore Sweatpants And A T-shirt And Had Stopped In The Middle Of The Hall, Furiously Scratching One Bare Forearm. "fleas?" I Said.