In The Bag

In The Bag

By Melissa Marni His skin was old and ashen. Not ashen like a cigarette but ashen like the scorched embers of a campfire that had been left burning too long. Nikolai was the exact opposite: A tan-skinned, lanky figure of twenty six, with sun-dipped curls in his hair and a

Do You Read?

Do You Read?

By Melissa Marni Dixon knew the exact moment when he crossed the county line. The deflated tension, the automatic exhale. Cops in Desperado were slow as the town they rode through on old horses or rusted police cars. Here rock and roll meant windswept stones and lonely tumbleweeds. Here time

Back to Top