Here lies a collection of short stories. I'm not going to tell you anything about them. But I will tell you that each story is nothing like the one before it, from the tone to the style to the genre to the plot. Don't like the one you're reading? Skip to the next one. Each story has substance like a cake or a slice of pizza: you can sink your teeth into them. Just watch out. They have teeth too.

"What do you mean I'm not human?" I ask confusedly. "Did I stutter?" Chase mocks, irritation lining his features. I glare at the demon -I mean, half demon, in front of me. "God, you're such an ass!" For a moment, he doesn't say anything but suddenly, his glare transforms into a cocky smile. "If you want to talk about my ass, just say so." [extended summary inside] [cover by WrittingNinja]

It all started when I was 5. My dad was driving and my mom was... well my mom was dead. I was mumbling the words to ' Hey There Delilah ' as my father stopped at a gas station to grab some snacks and freshen up. As he got out of the car he looked so serious as he told me the words that still haunt my memory. The words that were so eerie that they rattled my 5 year old bones down to the core. He told me " Delilah, I love you with all my heart and you need to know your mother is not dead. You have a gift... a power, that some people will want to take away from you. Be strong baby girl... And spread your wings then fly. It's been 13 years... 13 years with no parents but a flock. A flock of Phoenixes. Daddy, I found my power better yet, I found my destiny. Maybe even my true love.

I went from a girl who didn't know how to kill to one who knew how to make dying hurt. Dear Diary, It sounds so harmless, so innocent, but what if it wasn't? What if it was the start of a plan to burn down the world? My father was an artist, a visionary, a truly great man; he was also a con man, a contract killer, and despised by everyone. He was the head of the Russian Mafia. Now he's dead. All I have left of him is the hate of those he oppressed, and his journal with a plan to end the world. Everyone always forgets about the villain's family, as far as their concerned we don't exist. We are forgotten, no fame, no fortune, only the residual hate. My name is Neoma Casimir and they have forgotten me too, but trust me when I'm through they won't make that mistake again. The clock is ticking. The end is coming.

In which a boy with a bad habit of getting himself drunk learns that sex isn't everything.

"7:15, that's our time."

"You have a problem with falling, don't you?" "You have no idea." Cover by LilacLucas