"What did you think?" I asked her about the book, "It was good, even though it was more fantasy than horror, it was still huanting and bone chilling,"...she said, as if she was a critic, "But that's my opinion." she added. I laid the book down on the table, looking at the dull cover, crimson read, the words "Dreams of Terror and Deth" etched into the cover in gold. "Would you care to join me?" i asked her, pulling a chair out for her. She grabbed the back of the chair and slid in beside me. I sat. A real knockout, one any man would be proud to call his own.She looked thoughtful now, resting her chin on her right hand as she gazed at me. I felt a bit apprehensive -- sometimes she got the craziest ideas, and they were always preceeded by that thoughtful look. She was up to something."You know, hon," she began, "words only hurt if you're afraid of them. What could we do to help make you less afraid of the words these silly boys use?" I dunno, mom. It's not like I can just get bigger and. More

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