You, Me, and Comic Con
published as a standalone
and in an anthology of YA rom-coms set in NYC
When Avery's super-cool, super-tough skater boy boyfriend breaks up with her and heads to NYC for the day, she decides to follow him and win him back with her moves on the ramps. But when he goes to Comic Con instead of the skate park, everything she knows about him is called into question. Is he actually a closet nerd gone to let his Comic Con flag fly?
Avery has always been too hardcore for anything but skateboard competitions,
but to find out the truth, she might have to bend her own rules.
With the help of an unlikely group of new friends recruited from the Comic Con line, Avery sets out to discover the truth, and learns some truths about herself along the way.
Z Tales: Stories from the Zombieverse
I have two short stories in this anthology, which is a collaboration by my writing group, the Fairfield Scribes.
ARE YOU MY MOMBIE? by Teresa Richards
THE ZOMBIE CODE by Teresa Richards
Are You My Mombie?
A zombiefied spoof on the children's classic: "Are You My Mother?
A newborn zombie sat up in his grave. He looked to his left. He looked to his right. He turned his head ina full circle, looking, looking, looking.
Then he howled, "Where is my Mombie?"
Millie was playing nearby when the zombie climbed from his bed inthe ground. "Oh, hello!" she said when she saw him. "What's your name?"
The zombie just stared at her.
"Oh, maybe you don't know your name. I will call you Pickles because you smell bad, just like the pickles my daddy eats."
Pickles opened his mouth. "Are you my Mombie?" he said.
Millie laughed. "You mean your mommy? No, I'm not your mommy."
Pickles hung his head. "Where is my Mombie?" he moaned.
Millie's face fell. "Are you lost?"
"Don't worry, I will help you find your mommy."
The Zombie Code
Zombies have secrets of their own and rules that must be followed. Those who break the zombie code face steep consequences.
We, the people of the United Un-dead Nation, in order to form a more perfect union and ensure the survival of our species, hereby set forth the following rules and regulations. Collectively, these will be known as The Zombie Code and will be strictly enforced by any and all means necessary.
Rule #1--No talking to humans
It is a little known fact that we can communcate quite well. Or rather, as well as can be expected with decaying tongues and teeth that fall out at inopportune times. We are often bursting with literary gems, despite our lack of lingual dexterity. It is imperative, however, that we hide our communicative prowess from the humans. We rather like letting them believe our minds are rotting along with our bodies. It ensures they continue in their underestimation of us. Plus, a zombie who growls and groans is far more intimidating than one who taps its prey on the shoulder and says, "Excuse me, but could you hold still while I eat you?"
Therefore, there shall be no talking to humans whatsoever. All communication with those outside our species shall be limited to grunts and moans only. No exceptions.
When To Now?
A collection of time-bending short stories published by my writing group, The Fairfield Scribes.
TURNS OF FATE by Teresa Richards
Turns of Fate
In this dystopian future, time travel is a genetic trait and a valuable, but heavily regulated, commodity.
Cressida stood in line at her summer job, waiting to be scanned in. Her right hand circled her left wrist, flipping the standard-issue damper cuff around and around and around. She stared at the sign that greeted her to work every day.
TURNING STRICTLY PROHIBITED
DAMPERS MUST BE WORN AT ALL TIMES
This summer she was serving hot dogs and fried dough at Good Ol' Daze, the retro-themed fun park where she worked. It promised twenty-first century fun for anyone who cared to take a step back in time. Most of the patrons were school groups going through for history class, but there were a decent number of bored middle-agers, too.
She'd rather be spending her summer swimming at the quarry with her friends like she had last year, but the day she'd turned sixteen, she'd gotten a job. There was her little sister to think about. And since her Da couldn't stop using ... well, a job was the only answer.
Cressida pushed her already frizzy hair out of her face. It was still early in the day, but the air was sticky and stale. When she reached the front of the line, she held out her arm to have her damper cuff scanned. "It's been acting funny," she told the guy operating the cuff scanner. "This morning when it woke me up, the tone sequence sounded strange."
The guy eyed her. "Strange, how?"
"I don't know, all high and whiney--like the power source was dying."
He grunted. "How would you even know what that sounded like? You're on broadcast power, right?"
She nodded. "So, what should I do about it?"
The guy shrugged. "Trumped if I know."
"Can I still work?" She needed the coin. Her Da had used all his credits again, instead of selling them like he was supposed to.
Scanner Guy shrugged. "It's still working, right?"
"I think so. The Turning office isn't open this early, so I couldn't have it checked before I came in."
"Well, didn't you test it?"
Cressida's face flushed. She looked down at her arm resting on the scanner. "I presold my Turning credits. I'm out for the month." She didn't mention she was also out for the following five months. Six months in advance was as far out as the STC would let you go.
The guy avoided her gaze--he was embarrassed for her, she realized. Well she was embarrassed for her, too. So at least they agreed on that.
He waved her into the park. "Don't do anything stupid."