They say the world used to turn. They say that night would follow day in an endless dance. They say that dawn rose, dusk fell, and we worshiped both sun and stars. That was a long time ago. The dance has died. The world has fallen still. We float through the heavens, one half always in light, one half always in shadow. Like the moth of our forests, one wing white and the other black, we are torn. My people are the fortunate. We live in daylight, blessed in the warmth of the sun. Yet across the line, the others lurk in eternal night, afraid... and alone in the dark. I was born in the light. I was sent into darkness. This is my story.

Ara, the only woman left alive after a plague, is searching for a way to save humanity. She thinks there isn't a man she can trust, until she meets Kaden. ***** A plague has swept over the Earth, killing the majority of the population and every female. Except one. Ara witnessed the horror and destruction, but for the last three years she has survived. Now, desperation and hunger force her out of the mountains and onto a dangerous path; across the flooded downtown and through the gangs of survivors is hope. Ara's father spoke of a clue that could save not just her, but humanity. Then she is captured by a group of men. Despite the seeming kindness of Kaden, a young man her own age, Ara doesn't know if she can trust them. Then again, there's no way she can cross the plague-ridden city on her own. Men. Monsters. Is there a difference? This is the story of The Last She. (This book contains all of The Last She Series - Book 1: The Last She, Book 2: The Last City and Book 3: The Last Creation) [[word count: 250,000-300,000 words]]

After an apocalyptic event that thrusts the world into a new ice age, Calestia - a 17-year-old girl with a strong will - must learn to survive on a land infested with gangs, guns, and distrust. ***** Nobody knows what day it is anymore. Nobody knows the month, the day of the week...and the only way to tell time is by the slight change in the color of the sky from grey to black every twenty-four hours. If a day even is twenty-four hours anymore. The planet is dead. The people are dead. Snow falls down upon piles of bodies like the ash of a volcanic eruption. Except, the snow doesn't stop. It never does. It continues to fall and fall until you wonder if it is even possible for another flake to come down and land silently in your hair. But it does. They do. There are few survivors of what the remaining have started to call the end of the world. The Apocalypse. Few who are still brave or scared of death enough to face the torture that is living. I am one of those survivors. Book One of the Snow Series Highest ranking: #3 in Sci-Fi Watty's Shortlisted

A list of writing prompts for improving your writing skills. (All prompts by me.)