Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Rie Sheridan Rose @RieSheridanRose @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

002_MAR_LOHNever Drive at Night
by Rie Sheridan Rose

When I was a kid, my dad would never drive after the sun went down. If he even got close, my mom would lean over and whisper, “Time to find a hotel, Benny.”
I always thought it was because he could fall asleep anywhere at any time, and she didn’t want him to take the whole family with him if he did.
I didn’t mind, because I got to eat a lot of room service and swim in a lot of hotel pools.
It wasn’t until I was a grown man heading for college that I really started to wonder about their sanity. I’d been accepted to USC in a prestigious program, and I was eager to get there and start a new life.
The convertible was my graduation present, and I wanted to let that baby fly.
Just before I started down the road, my mother pulled me aside. “Tommy, you’ve been a good boy all your life—listened to your parents, and done the right thing. Listen to me one last time…before you go off to be your own man. Promise me that you won’t drive at night. It’s too easy to run into disaster. Besides, the road always looks better in the daylight. You can see the sights…”
“I promise, Ma.” I kissed her cheek and climbed in the car. I think that even then I knew I wouldn’t pay attention to the advice, but it wasn’t even noon, so I didn’t think about it much.
The miles flew by as I let the engine purr. It was my first big adventure away from home, and I took advantage of it—pulling off to any little attraction that caught my eye. Eating more junk food than I had a right to…
I got a little hypnotized by the unspooling roadway, and before I really noticed, there was a breath-taking sunset before me. And I was in the middle of nowhere with nothing to either side. It was impossible to stop driving for the night—unless I wanted to sleep in the car, and the backseat held most of my worldly possessions. So, I kept driving.
The stars winked on, one at a time, until the sky above me was spangled with them. I’d never seen the night sky look so beautiful. It really did take my breath away.
I passed a road-sign saying the next town was a hundred miles away. I could make that. Then I would check into a hotel and get some dinner.
The last of the sunset was fading beneath the stars when I saw it. An eye, staring down at me from that vast expanse of stars. God? A demon? Hell, I don’t know…but I have recorded this on my phone for whoever might find the car. I have a feeling, I’m not going to be in it.
I see a hand reaching out of the shadows. Listen to my mother—never drive at night.
Fiction © Copyright Rie Sheridan Rose
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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519RiHK+1wL._SX331_BO1,204,203,200_

Overheard in Hell:
Dark Poetry

Poems exploring hell and damnation. Tales of sorrow, vengeance, betrayal, and redemption. Ghosts, ghouls, and demons stalk these pages. Don’t read in a lonely house…in a darkened room by a single candle…

…unless you like the touch of an icy finger up your spine.

Available on Amazon!

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Melissa R. Mendelson @melissmendelson @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

001_MAR_LOH

The Rise and Fall of Stars
by Melissa R. Mendelson

Little Timmy was a fifty-four year old man, and he wasn’t little.  He was rather large and loud and highly obnoxious.  I’m not sure where the Little came from, but most people had little patience for him.  Maybe, that’s where the nickname came from, and nobody was surprised the night that he disappeared.  We were actually glad that he was gone, but his house had burnt down.  And a strange thing remained behind in all that debris.  It was a metal box, and inside was a roll of 8mm film.
I was the collector of oddities and the only one in town with an 8mm film projector.  I was tasked to review the footage, see if there was any kind of foul play.  I highly doubted it.  Little Timmy was gone.  He packed up his bags and burned his house down.  I still watched the film, but I made popcorn first.  I just hoped that it wasn’t some kind of creepy footage.  I had enough issues.
As the projector rolled the film, the screen was mostly white, blank.  Maybe, whatever was on the film wasn’t there anymore, but then a shadow appeared.  It slowly came into focus.  It was a man.  It was Little Timmy, and he looked right at me.  He screamed, and I jumped.  He banged his fists against the screen, and the projector rattled.
Little Timmy turned around.  The color of his face drained, turning paler even in a black and white film.  He glanced my way, and I noticed something off to the corner.  It waved around like a flame, and suddenly, Little Timmy burst into fire.  He screamed and rolled right through the screen, landing onto the floor and touched my leg.  But I did not burn too.  I was inside the film, staring out at Little Timmy’s body.  I watched my house burn down, and somewhere in that debris, a roll of 8mm film would be found.
Fiction © Copyright Melissa R. Mendelson
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
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More from Melissa R. Mendelson:

nmkmmName’s Keeper

I got a one-way ticket out of hell. All I need to do is drive across country with a body in the trunk and run miscellaneous errands, but a lot of those errands come with a heavy price. And if I lose the body in the trunk, then I have to go back, and I’ll be damned if I return down there. I will fight to stay here, even if there is no rest for those wicked.

Available on Amazon!

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Asena Lourenco @ElaLourenco @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

004_FEB_LOHMommy, I Can’t See
by Asena Lourenco

I couldn’t be sure of the soft object in my hand. Touch had never been my strongest sense. The chill of the icy breeze rattled up my fingertips and spread throughout my limbs. My thin jacket struggled in the battle to keep the wind out. I shivered. My long hair floated away from my face, mocking me in what would be a clear picture. I could feel the warm liquid dripping down my cheeks in rivulets down my delicate skin. Slowly, the mild tingling became a painful burn before the liquid solidified. I let myself believe, just for a moment, that if I removed the bandage from my eyes, then I would be able to see the brown dirt by my feet and the trees that towered over my minuscule figure. I never thought that ever again.
Fiction © Copyright Asena Lourenco
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More about Asena Lourenco:

Asena Lourenco is 13 years old. She loves reading, playing Scottish traditional fiddle music on her violin, dancing, and martial arts as well as writing her own stories.

She would like to be a teacher and writer when she grows up. She also loves cats and babies!

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Sheri White @sheriw1965 @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

004_FEB_LOHTo Protect a Child
by Sheri White

The little girl stumbled through the woods, a bloody bandage covering her eyes. She held her arms out in front of her, her hands smacking trees and pushing aside thorny bushes.
“Help! Help me! Please!” The little girl screamed, terror plain in her voice. “They’re going to get me!”
In the distance behind her, yells and whoops grew louder.
“You won’t get far, Lissa!” taunted a teenage boy. “Not with those bloody eyes!”
Loud laughter followed.
“Leave me alone!” Lissa stumbled and fell into a pile of dead leaves.
The group of boys, ranging in ages from 10 to 16, surrounded her. All of them carried a weapon, either a knife or baseball bat.
Lissa screamed again, pleading for her life.
“Hey! You boys!” A man ran towards the group. “Leave that little girl alone!”
A few other adults ran with him.
The little girl stood up, her bloody bandage now in her hand. She watched her rescuers approach the group.
“GO NOW!” she screamed.
The boys took off towards the adults, catching them off-guard. Startled, they tried to run away, but the boys easily caught them. With their knives and bats, the teens beat and stabbed them until torrents of blood soaked into the dirt and leaves.
Lissa and the boys started to walk back to their camp.
“Bobby?” Lissa asked.
The tallest boy looked down at her. “What is it, sis?”
“Why do so many fall for that? Make it so easy for us?”
Bobby shrugged. “I guess some of them used to be parents and just act on instinct to protect a child in danger. Some will give up and go into hiding. The ones who are unfortunate enough to still have empathy—they’ll always be easy prey.”
Lissa held her brother’s hand and they disappeared into the dark woods.
Fiction © Copyright Sheri White
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from Author Sheri White:

sw`Don’t Turn Out the Lights: A Tribute to Alvin Schwartz’s Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark

Featuring stories from R.L. Stine and Madeleine Roux, this middle grade horror anthology, curated by New York Times bestselling author and master of macabre Jonathan Maberry, is a chilling tribute to Alvin Schwartz’s Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark.

Flesh-hungry ogres? Brains full of spiders? Haunted houses you can’t escape? This collection of 35 terrifying stories from the Horror Writers Association has it all, including ghastly illustrations from Iris Compiet that will absolutely chill readers to the bone.

So turn off your lamps, click on your flashlights, and prepare—if you dare—to be utterly spooked!

The complete list of writers: Linda D. Addison, Courtney Alameda, Jonathan Auxier, Gary A. Braunbeck, Z Brewer, Aric Cushing, John Dixon, Tananarive Due, Jamie Ford, Kami Garcia, Christopher Golden, Tonya Hurley, Catherine Jordan, Sherrilyn Kenyon, Alethea Kontis, N.R. Lambert, Laurent Linn, Amy Lukavics, Barry Lyga, D.J. MacHale, Josh Malerman, James A. Moore, Michael Northrop, Micol Ostow, Joanna Parypinksi, Brendan Reichs, Madeleine Roux, R.L. Stine, Margaret Stohl, Gaby Triana, Luis Alberto Urrea, Rosario Urrea, Kim Ventrella, Sheri White, T.J. Wooldridge, Brenna Yovanoff

Available on Amazon!

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Kendra Hale @DevourAllWords @Darc_Nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

002_FEB_LOH

Agony
by Kendra Hale

Patient Record #12241967
Therapy Session #24
If you are one of those people who can disengage and move forward from a situation, be grateful. I have been considered empathic my whole life and it is like sinking slowly in mud, again and again and again. It is like a glue meant to never wash off or remove. You are constantly miring through this muck that has never once belonged to you. 
People claim it as a weakness, some as a strength. I claim it as a hell. Every person I have ever had a relationship with, even in passing conversation has left their mark on me. There isn’t a night I don’t look back on one or more of those who have left their stamp on what I can only consider my soul. 
The worst part is that this also goes for people who have left my life for one reason or another. I used to love watching those ghost dramas and listening as people talked about being haunted until I realized that I was living that on a daily scale. It isn’t something I can turn off or move away from. 
The emotional spectrum stays with me…even though the feelings aren’t mine. They have never been mine. The happy ones never last… 
If I have felt hatred, those emotions wash over me like a sticky black tar. 
Sadness feels like I am drowning. 
Rage, all consuming…that one leads to a blindness of my mind. 
If it is fed by my own rage I can not remember what happens. 
Not until I wake …and there is usually blood on my hands. 
But there is also this relief… I don’t remember what has happened and the emotion is gone, it is like it cycles out of me and another memory has bitten the dust. A blank slate that is now my own to write rather than other souls who happen into my web. 
I will continue on this path…until my life is my own. Once and for all.
Fiction © Copyright Kendra Hale
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from author Kendra Hale:

je


Just Emotions:
A Gothic Bite Magazine Anthology

A collection of poetry.

 Available on Amazon!  

 

 

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Christina Sng @ChristinaSng @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!


004_FEB_LOHSnow Child
by Christina Sng

I.

It was the last day of autumn
When they tore me from my family,

Gouged out my eyes in a hurry,
The cold steel of the spoons

Still frost against my sockets
When they threw me into the forest

With only my lovey,
And left me to the wolves.

II.

The forest fell silent.
Only the wind whispered,

“Live or die,
It is your choice.”

I heard the wolves circle me,
The soft, muffled crackling

Of fall leaves
Trampled to shreds

Like how they would tear me,
Limb by limb.

Who would take my head?
Who would take my feet?

And my lovey?
Left in the dirt to decompose

In the terrible, cold winter
Alone.

I wanted to weep
But there were no more tears.

There was only blood where
My eyes were once housed.

III.

I refused to die.
I refused to leave her behind.

I ran, one arm flailing, feeling
Ahead of me for obstacles.

The dull ache of my lost eyes
Spurred me on.

Then I fell, sprawled
In the soft pillow of dried leaves,

All of them resigned to death
But me.

My left hand closed
Over a sharp branch.

I pushed myself up,
Still clutching my doll.

The first wolf lunged at me,
Pinning me down.

I stabbed it through its chest,
Yanking the branch out

With a rage
I had never felt before.

IV.

I ran.
This time they did not follow,

The scent
Of their fallen comrade

Thick on me, marking me
As a predator.

I had won my freedom
And now, a new life beckoned.

Ahead, the voices of two children,
Crisp as day, soared like chimes.

I heard their footsteps pause
When they saw me,

And I heard the wind whisper,
“Save them, save yourself.”

I listened,
And I called to them for help.

V.

For months, the children
Kept me safe

In their small cottage
With a sharp scent of candy.

They were glad for my company
And we spent many evenings

Talking about our families,
How they cast us out to die

For their own benefit
And how, they did not deserve us.

We wept and mourned
And then, we moved on,

Forming our own family,
Gretel, Hansel, and me,

Snow White.
Fiction © Copyright Christina Sng
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from Christina Sng:

A Collection of Nightmares

Hold your screams and enter a world of seasonal creatures, dreams of bones, and confessions modeled from open eyes and endless insomnia. Christina Sng’s A Collection of Nightmares is a poetic feast of sleeplessness and shadows, an exquisite exhibition of fear and things better left unsaid. Here are ramblings at the end of the world and a path that leads to a thousand paper cuts at the hands of a skin carver. There are crawlspace whispers, and fresh sheets gently washed with sacrifice and poison, and if you’re careful in this ghost month, these poems will call upon the succubus to tend to your flesh wounds and scars.
These nightmares are sweeping fantasies that electrocute the senses as much as they dull the ache of loneliness by showing you what’s hiding under your bed, in the back of your closet, and inside your head. Sng’s poems dissect and flower, her autopsies are delicate blooms dressed with blood and syntax. Her words are charcoal and cotton, safe yet dressed in an executioner’s garb.
Dream carefully.
You’ve already made your bed.
The nightmares you have now will not be kind.
And you have no one to blame but yourself.

Available on Amazon!

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Lee Murray @LeeMurrayWriter @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

003_FEB_LOHBrooding
by Lee Murray

“No other guests?”
“Just me.”
“Vehicle?”
I shook my head. “Came on the bus.”
The girl squinted through eyes smudged black from yesterday’s mascara. “Next one’s not ‘til Thursday.”
“Then I’ll stay ‘til Thursday.”
“Won’t someone be expecting you?”
I snorted. “Like anyone cares.”
She paused a moment, then handed me a key. “6B. End of the block. WIFI’s a bit dodgy, though.”
I nodded. It was the back end of the back of beyond.
6B was like any other low-rent room: a water stain in the sink, a bedspread like canvas, and a lingering odour of despair. I watched a Mad Max rerun, then turned in. 
Around three am, I heard creaking. An ice machine grinding? Light shone through the curtains, and the doorknob rattled. Another guest, too drunk to find their own room probably. I was about to turn over when someone slammed into the door. Wood shuddered in the frame. There was another strike, louder, insistent.
“You’ve got the wrong room,” I shouted. 
Another smash, then splintering.
The hell? Blood pounding, I scrambled out of bed and snatched up my phone to call the police. The screen glowed uselessly. No signal. 
The door gave, crashing inwards, and the girl from the front desk barged through, her face made up like a clown, like it was Halloween or something. 
But the axe, stained black, was very real.
I backed away.
The girl advanced, swinging the axe. “Sorry for the drama. They like flavour of fear.”
They who? I glanced sideways as a mass of sinuous tendrils slid through the ceiling vents, coalescing into hideous long-toothed monsters. 
“Let me out,” I begged.
Instead, the blade flashed, severing my arm cleanly at the elbow. I screamed. Clasped the stump. Fell. Blood spurted though my fingers. 
Cackling, the girl swung again, slicing across my midriff. “No one’s coming,” she said. “Last guest departed yesterday.”
Blood and guts pooling about me, I couldn’t speak now, still, she read the question in my eyes.
“The females are brooding,” she said. “And mothers have to be fed, don’t they?”
She stood back as the creatures surged.
Fiction © Copyright Lee Murray
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com
 

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More from Lee Murray:

COVER DRAFT FINAL JUNE CCC

Grotesque Monster Stories

Three-time Bram Stoker Award® nominee Lee Murray delivers her debut collection, and it is monstrous. Inspired by the mythology of Europe, China, and her beloved Aotearoa-New Zealand, Murray twists and subverts ancient themes, stitching new creatures from blood and bone, hiding them in soft forest mists and dark subterranean prisons.In this volume, construction workers uncover a hidden tunnel; soldiers wander, lost after a skirmish; and a dead girl yearns for company. Featuring eleven uncanny tales of automatons, zombies, golems, and dragons, and the Taine McKenna adventure Into the Clouded Sky, Lee Murray’s Grotesque: Monster Stories breathes new life into the monster genre.11 short stories from the imagination of New Zealand’s multiple award-winning author and editor Lee Murray! With a foreword by USA Today bestselling author David Wood.

Available on Amazon!

 

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Sheikha A. @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

002_FEB_LOHHigh Priestess
by Sheikha A.

for Taleah
You hear a knock on your door;
through sleep-slit eyes you see
her in ancestral binds – bangle
on her arm – colour of arcane
dreams. You remember a cardinal
chirping, and a woman bald-eyed;
you remember her chest-less
coming towards you with intent.
She binds like Mobius strips –
what she wants is what she gets;
your mind feels like a lotus
pulled down by an anchor
in a pond you recall as bloodied,
the tinge of tar-like frothy ripples,
and her hand emerging
pedantic and instructing.
She is here to teach you to read;
you see your body become still
as her hand gently grips your wrist;
your body will stay behind – you travel
light – only the origin is permissible,
she tells you, her voice a hissing echo –
her voice like a thousand silent meteors
before a war-cry; you remember this dream,
and the end before which you’d wake.
She comes every ten moon cycles
when the candles have burnt
to their last fibre; she had you
leading in your past life
until you turned rogue,
your mind erased
cast back to the 3D;
you remember your soul
break auric fields of war-lords –
the witch that weakened battalions.
You watch your soul look back
at your body, your eyes meet
like predicting runes; you tell
yourself you will learn
what she commands
that this time will be different,
this time you will be gone for long.
Fiction © Copyright Sheikha A.
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from author Sheikha A.:

Screen Shot 2019-12-17 at 10.57.17 AM.pngNyctophiliac Confessions:
Poems by Sheikha A. and Suvojit Banerjee

“The night is cold enough to inspire poetry,” says Sheikha A. in her poem, “Reading My Bones.” This is the basis of Nyctophiliac Confessions – poems that are introspective and luminal, poems that require a certain amount of silence and space to be fully formed and appreciated. Reading these poems, I imagined that they were the kind of poems that assert themselves unbidden during a bout of insomnia. (A nyctophiliac being someone who loves the night or loves darkness).

Nyctophiliac Confessions is the 17th installment of Praxis’ chapbook series and contains twenty-six poems written by two poets, Sheikha A. and Suvojit Banerjee, interspersed with abstract paintings by Robert Rhodes.

Available Here!

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author K.R. Morrison @KRMorrison2 @darc_nina #LoH #fiction #WiHM

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

001_FEB_LOH

Make-up
K.R. Morrison

He never liked my face…or, rather, the lack of make-up on said face.
“You need to do something,” he would tell me. “Especially around the eyes.”
This he told his friends, my friends, the checker at the grocery…ad nauseum.
Then my mom died, and my sister and I had to go through her effects.
Lo and behold, I found her icepick. My first thought first appalled me, then really appealed to me.
It’s a shame that he didn’t live long enough to see his wish come true.
I really do look good in red…
Fiction © Copyright K.R. Morrison
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from Author K.R. Morrison:

Be Not Afraid (Pride’s Downfall Vol 1)

Lydia’s faith in God is strong – at least on paper. But what happens when that faith is tested? Turned into a vampire by the worst – Vlad Drakul – she feels that God has abandoned her. But the opposite is true. God rescues her from a fate worse than death, and brings her into the plan He has for global redemption. With the help He sends, she feels like nothing can stop her. But when Vlad torments her again, and then her family, the temptation to run and hide is almost too strong to resist. Her answer to God’s call is the deciding factor in the battle that pits the angelic powers of God against the demonic powers of Hell.

Available on Amazon!

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Be sure to check out the other fantastic events and peeps participating in
Women in Horror Month 12

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Ladies of Horror Flash Project – #Horror #author Lydia Prime @LydiaPrime @darc_nina #LoH #fiction

The Ladies of Horror
Picture-Prompt Writing Challenge!

004_FEB_LOH

Amis
by Lydia Prime

Plainly,
she dressed,
she spoke.
She seemed
forgettable:
lost name,
blurry face.
There was
nothing
to be done—
to be known.
They say they
would have,
had they seen,
had they heard.
Ignorance hadn’t
Stopped it
spreading further,
Infecting more.
Keeping casualties
from happening.
Bearing witness,
staying silent,
pleases beasts
sometimes.
Not for long,
always more—
she had enough
bad things
for a lifetime.
Stole theirs—
Annihilations
just happen.
Fiction © Copyright Lydia Prime
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com

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More from author Lydia Prime:

totgatnThe One That Got Away:
Women of Horror Anthology Vol. 3

What doesn’t kill me, might make me kill you!

30 women authors from around the world were challenged to write about The One That Got Away. Here you’ll find tales of unrequited love, blind dates gone wrong, stalkers and their prey, cursed guitars, alien symbiotes, sinister letters, and bitter acts of revenge. Dive into murky depths and discover what hides inside the minds of women scorned..

Book 3 in the Kandisha Press Women of Horror Anthology Series

#frightgirlwinter recommended reading!

With Foreword by Gwendolyn Kiste (Bram Stoker Award Winning Author of The Rust Maidens)

Edited by Jill Girardi

Featuring stories from: Carmen Baca, Ushasi Sen Basu, Demi-Louise Blackburn, Ashley Burns, R.A. Busby, Amira Krista Calvo, Dawn DeBraal, Shawnna Deresch, Ellie Douglas, Amy Grech, KC Grifant, Meg Hafdahl, Rowan Hill, Stevie Kopas, Michelle Renee Lane, Catherine McCarthy, Villimey Mist, Mocha Pennington, Faith Pierce, Janine Pipe, Lydia Prime, Paula RC Readman, Marsheila Rockwell, Lucy Rose, Rebecca Rowland, Hadassah Shiradski, Yolanda Sfetsos, Barrington Smith-Seetachitt, J Snow and Sonora Taylor.

 Available on Amazon!  

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