Vignettes

I love the characters in my books—even the so-called villains! As I write them, they come alive. I love their depth and subtleties.

In these short stories you’ll find glimpses of each main character through an important life event. I hope you’re intrigued by them as much as I am.


Feselea sat on the hard wooden chair, clutching the seat’s edges. Shoulders slumped, long red hair hanging across her face as she studied the ground. Legs swinging back and forth. Her moccashoes scraped the ground with each swing, keeping time with the clock on the wall. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.

Well. Here he was.

Reisor adjusted his tunic, double-checking the map. Right across the bridge…memory mushrooms to the left…he folded the map, inhaling deeply. This was it.


“Come one, come all.” The troupe leader waved her arms, golden bracelets dangling from her wrists. “If you have a talent, let us see it.”

Dane bobbed up and down on his feet, clutching the advertisement. This was perfect! This was so, so perfect! He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Thanks for letting me give it a go, bro.”

Reisor took a seat, adjusting himself on the wooden bleacher. The bleachers were set up in a circle inside the giant tent—and right in the center, a stage gleamed under the glow of shroomlamps. Dane would perform there any minute.

Reisor glanced at Feselea. She was swinging her legs back and forth, hands on her knees. She blew strands of red hair from her face, then glanced at the ceiling. “Plenty of ropes and equipment.”

Joe leaned forward on the sofa, letting the leather squeak. He laced his fingers, setting his elbows on his knees. Then he let out his breath, closing his eyes.

Nothing to it. Daven was a good man. This would be an easy dance…

Footsteps. More leather squeaking. Joe’s eyes flew open


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