Contact me:  melissa.a.sell@gmail.com

Sometimes I feel like…like I’m living inside one of my books. You know, without all the death and violence

Death’s Door There was that song again, it tapped at my temples with its drowsy tone. Where had I heard it before? I couldn’t remember, I was stuck somewhere between dreaming and reality. On the edge of waking but still holding the hand of a dream. My eyelashes flutter against my face as I try to open my eyes, their lids heavier than normal. I wanted to sleep a little longer, but the blasted song would not stop playing. Dancing in my ears and forcing me to wake before I

Pay attention to the house rules to survive the night in House of Timor. Not all who enter can leave. *No part of this story is to be duplicated or shared without the author's written consent.*