Walk softly and carry a big stick. Or stomp loudly and carry enough firepower to start a small war. Whatever worked

Alarm stole over me on little kitten feet.

Back to work. If I’m [writing] I’m not thinking about the crazy.

I figured even the most jaded and cynical inhabitant might report a bloody girl in a party dress carrying a severed head by its hair.

You don't have to shout from the mountaintops. Sometimes power comes in a soft, calm, compassionate way, like a quiet warrior.

Admitting that Katie had taken too much blood was on par with saying an adult human had pooped their pants or eaten their own boogers!

Chicken, yeah, that's me. I'd rather fight an old rogue-vamp in my underwear, with my bare hands, than deal with relationship problems.