Due to deep personal beliefs in not creeping out your internet authors, I would like to assure you that this story in no way endorses a belief in torturing authors, and also, that any similarities to the author known as Stormy are completely coincidental

Lena “Thunder” McMillan skipped gaily into the hotel lobby. A four star hotel, real bellhops, red velvet carpets, it had everything she ever dreamed the famous people got to have. There was even a table near the entrance covered in danish! Grabbing a cheese danish, she started munching on the flaky pastry, then noticed a small sign tucked amongst the blueberry. White thick card stock with a gold filigree border, in dark letters and fancy font, “Welcome Thunder” danced across the surface. She reached out and stroked her name.

“Wow…”

The word escaped her mouth, half between a sigh and a whispered prayer. Shaking her head, reality snapped back, and the stars mostly left her eyes. She walked on to the front desk, more regally this time, with a mien she felt befit a writer. No, an author! Stepping up to the front counter, light oak inlaid with teak stained a deep red brown, a name plate carved from some mottled green stone proclaiming with a bronze plaque the blond behind the desk to be “Tracy”, she put her id and printed confirmation on the counter. Read more