The Girl Who's Made of Leaves: Post Apocalyptic Science Fiction

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Self-Publishing with Dale, Thank you, Dale. You know the meaning of building a brand and not forgetting those who support you.

Kelli Publish, Thank you, Kelli with an “i”. You are a truly a woman who knows her craft. Thanks for sharing.

Jenna Moreci, Thanks to the only Pegasus-riding, cyborg I know.

Thank you. You are appreciated. Enjoy.

Rum and tobacco caress her skin, leaving behind a thin film of notes, hinting of chocolate and earth. The girl wants to tumble deeper into a restful state of sleep. She has a driving need to dig her toes into the blankets, desiring a feeling of comfort and safety, but here, there are no blankets in which to burrow.

The harsh clank of metal instruments, falling upon a bare metal tray, scrapes at her nerves, making the ends stand at attention. The sharp clamor of the noise pours ice water over her and tells her to wake up, right now.

The aroma of cheap drugstore aftershave soothes and reminds her of better times, but of times she cannot remember. Recollection is a phantom, floating through the room, evading her when she reaches out for it, eluding capture.

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