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Amy Rachiele
372 followers -
Author, Reader, Sci-fi fan, and gifted with a thick New England accent!
Author, Reader, Sci-fi fan, and gifted with a thick New England accent!

372 followers
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A DRAGON'S LIFE! 
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Carlo shakes his head. "She's gone man. You are just going to have to live with that. If she wanted you, she wouldn't have taken off."
"Harsh. Thanks. I've been shot, or have you forgotten?" I spit at him.
"I am telling you what it is, not what you want to hear."
"Can we just get the hell out of here and save the brotherly fuckin' pep talk for later?"
The girl standing by the bed is getting nervous. She sees us coming. I knew Carlo was going to draw attention with his behavior. She keeps shifting on her feet and shooting glances our way.
"Don't spook them. Just walk by," I tell him.
"Why would I spook them? You're the one that's bandaged up with a gunshot wound walking around the hospital in the middle of the night." A tinge of pain rockets through my shoulder. I gasp in response. The pain meds are wearing off I think.
We approach the two women and one of them has a white sheet covering her belly. She looks pregnant. The other woman, must be her friend or sister standing beside her.
Our steps are hasty and we approach hugging the opposite side of the hallway giving them the widest berth possible. The woman on the bed grabs her stomach and lets out a moan. My forced straight ahead avoidance stare is distracted and I glance at the woman. My feet freeze and my head turns getting a better look not believing my eyes. It has to be a mirage, a hallucination--the medication.
Meryl!
Carlo stops when I do.
I eat up the short space in the hospital hallway and step to the bed.
"Meryl! Holy shit!" I'm loud and I don't care. I reach out and touch her to make sure she is real. I lay my hand on her stomach. "Holy shit!" I say again.
"Get away from her!" I am shoved in the shoulder and the pain of the thrust stings.
"Shit!" I howl.
"Help!" The woman with Meryl screams. She kicks out at me, but I ignore her. My eyes are glued to my beautiful Meryl stricken with surprise. "We need help!" The woman with Meryl screeches.
All of my attention returns to Meryl and I touch her again. I am in awe. I lean down and rest my head on her astounded.
"It's not yours Alex."
I gaze at her lying there and her face is stone.
Those four words hit me in the gut. Not because she says that the baby she is carrying isn't mine but because it's all she can say to me after she left me without a word or way to find her. She never gave me the chance to tell her that I love her. For the first time in a long time, my eyes well with tears. It was fate when I met her at La Belle Regale casino sitting on a bar stool attempting to cover her giggle at my fumbling around at something I never do. The casino is my home. It was only a few months ago but to me, seeing her, it seems a lifetime.
"Get. Off. Her. Now!" Meryl's friend pounds on my back. "Get away!" She is frantic. Carlo grabs her and wraps his hand over her mouth.
I can't let go of Meryl. I have wrapped my entire uninjured arm around her middle and hug her the bedrail hitting me in the stomach. The thought of a second chance rolls around in my head. I've been given a second chance. Fate has brought us together. It's sappy and Carlo is going to say its bullshit but to me it's true.
I should be mad at her. I should be rip pissed as shit that she is carrying another man's baby. The wall beside her bed should have a hole in it from where I punched it. I can't do it. It is all washed away because all that matters is that I found her.
A muffled scream makes me turn.
"Alex. That is my cousin... Lisa. Please..." Meryl stops mid-sentence because her breath is caught in her throat from pain. Her hand goes to her stomach.
"Meryl?" I run my unbandaged hand through her hair. "Honey? Are you okay?" I turn to Carlo. "Get a fucking doctor, now!"
Carlo is hesitant. He wants to get the hell out of here. But he isn't a bastard, he doesn't want to see Meryl suffer. The girl in his arms fights trying to tear herself away.
"Get your hands off me!" she shrieks.
He gapes down at her and releases. His eyes flash to mine then he rushes, continuing down the hall to the main emergency room. The girl rights her clothes from struggling to be free of Carlo's hold.
"How dare you?" She seethes at me.
"Lisa, is it?" I pause. "I am going to tell you this once, back the fuck away from me." I threaten. Nothing is coming in between Meryl and me.
Meryl's pain has subsided.
"Alex?"
"Don't talk honey. Rest the doctor will be here soon," I coo. I have never fucking cooed at anyone in my whole life. This woman makes me turn inside out.
"Alex? Don't you want to know?" Meryl wonders.
I do. I want to know whose baby this is but I don't want to upset or scare her by telling her I'm going to kill him because she is mine. I've seen some dysfunctional fucked up shit in my life and creating it does even fucking faze me. ~Alex, Mobster's Fate #saturdayscenes #saturdayscenes2017 #amyrachiele #mobsterfiction #chicagomobseries

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SPRING IS HERE! #amyrachiele #writers
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Alex
“We were stupid." The first words I hear when the fogginess begins to fade and the room comes into focus. Carlo is pissed off. I open my eyes and my vision immediately goes to the top of the clear plastic that is laying over my cheeks. The oxygen mask hasn’t been removed. I twist my head to look at my shoulder where the bullet pierced and I am wrapped like a mummy from my collarbone down my arm. I rest my head back and stare at the rectangle lights that dot the ceiling. Carlo is hovering, eyeing me, concern covers his face with an underlying anger. I'm angry too. I feel what he feels.
“It’s workable.” He tells the person on the end of the phone. “Caesar came out of nowhere. I don’t know what the fuck he was thinking.” Carlo must be talking to his father. “Desperation will make you do stupid things.”
I am fucking pissed too…at myself. Carlo and I would have had him had I not been shot in the shoulder.
“No one fucks up a Caruso and gets away with it.” Carlo barks, pacing the small area while he talks.
Technically, I am not a Caruso but a Moretti. I am part of the Mob family. The most powerful organized crime racket in Chicago. The mob boss, Ennio Caruso, throws the unwanted scraps to other families like the drugs and prostitution rings. He doesn’t like to be involved in that shit. It is too much aggravation and draws federal attention.
I was raised within those walls with Carlo and his sister Clarissa. My mother and father died when I was young. There was no debate or confusion of where I was to go. Ennio took me in like I was his blood.
“Everyone is on this.” Carlo darts his eyes to me knowing I’m awake. I nod with a thickness in my throat unrelated to being shot or any painkillers in my system. My free hand goes to my forehead; I blame myself.
"Bye, Pop," he says and clicks the end button on his phone.
“How are you feeling?” Carlo leans in, examining me closer. I take off the oxygen mask.
“Tired,” I rasp. He taps my right arm. “Rest, we’ll leave tonight,” he whispers conspiratorially. I close my eyes letting sleep arrest me again.
#mobsterfiction #amyrachiele #chicagomobseries #saturdayscenes #mobstersfate 
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Hellwalkers: A Walk in Hell
The next morning hits with pure exhaustion. I lift up on my arms and they are sore. In the morning sunlight I look down at my arm. Bruising is dark around a pin prick in the crook of my elbow. Tears well in my eyes. They drugged me again. It's not fair. I don't know what I'm doing. What happens in my sleep is something I can't control. I want to blame Sandy. She must have told on me. Other fosters have told me I can get pretty loud. Something is wrong with Allie is whispered but it isn't so hushed that I can't hear it. Every time I am moved to a new home I hear the same things. The needles in my arm are new though. I hate it! It's scary. My body goes listless and I don't dream. Part of me wants to ask for an injection every night but I don't want anything controlling me. In the back of my mind, I have a ripped part of myself that doesn't want the dreams to end. It is almost an intuition that I need them.
Dream nights drain me. The creatures do a good job of making my sleep restless. I wait my turn for the shower. Sandy takes extra time, more than the allotted. I don't even care. I use the wall outside the bathroom door to hold me up, my toiletry bag dangling from my wrist. My eyes close resting them for the few minutes before it is my turn in the bathroom.
"Boo!" is screamed in my ear.
I keep my eyes closed and don't even flinch.
"Nice try, Paul. I heard you coming."
"Did not," his eight-year-old little voice whines.
"Did too," I counter, enjoying being propped up against the wall. I am so tired.
He shakes my arm.
"Wake up Allie. Rise and shine!" he uses his playful voice.
"I've got the 'rise' covered. 'The shine' is not happening."
He takes my hand in his while I use the wall for a bed, he wobbles it and my arm is so fatigued it just rattles around in the air. "Is this supposed to be productive?" I joke.
"Nope. Annoying," he quips.
I turn my head a tad and open one eye glancing down at him. My scowl spins into a smile.
"At least your honest..." I halt mid-sentence. A shape moves past my vision behind Paul. My eyes fly open wide and my heart pounds as I see one of the monsters from my dream last night. Its long beak opens like a pelican and it chirps viciously. Clawed fingers hover over Paul's head. They open like the talons of an eagle ready to pounce on its prey. I let my toiletry bag plummet to the hardwood floor as I reach out for Paul. I grab him by the arm and yank him to me.
"Hey!" he shouts.
I spin so my back is to the creature. If it strikes it will get me and not little Paul. I scoop him up and bolt towards the stairs. Saving Paul and getting away the only two things on my mind. I take a second to look up in confused panic and the thing is gone.
"Put me down!" he cries. I bury my face in his little neck. I whimper. Seeing the monsters during the day has never happened to me before. Tears want to spill over and my legs want to collapse. I blame the shot.
Gaining a bit of courage, I glance around the hallway. I check the cream colored walls, I gaze across the railing to the other side. There is nothing there. My eyes flit to the bathroom door when I hear the latch click. I gaze down at the blond wooden stair treads and I am teetering on the top step of the old stairs with Paul in my arms. Dizziness picks at my brain and I bob back and forth slightly. I blame the shot.
"Allie!" Sandy calls out. "What are you doing?"
My mind tries to right itself, convince me that I was seeing things. Maybe I was.
"Put me down," Paul orders me irritated.
I take careful strides backwards away from the dangerous flight of stairs. The monsters seem so real in my dreams why wouldn't I get a flash of one when I'm so sleepy and pumped with drugs? It could happen.
Paul scrambles out of my arms as I put him down. He takes a deep long look into my eyes. We stare at each other for a moment. Then, he juts away chanting.
"I get the bathroom before Allie! I get the bathroom before Allie!" He throws himself through the door and locks himself in. #YA #paranormal #amyrachiele #saturdayscenes

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From Hellwalkers Series: A Walk In Hell (in progress)
Can a dream kill you?
“Allie! Allie!” A voice echoes through the narrow hallway of my mind.
Can you die in a dream? Is that what happens to people who die in their sleep? A dream scared them to death. Wispy tendrils reach out tearing at my skin slashing as I walk. I know that I should be afraid but I'm not.
“Allie!” The shouty whisper leads me out of dreamland.
“What?” I croak.
“You were dreaming again,” Sandy says hovering over me in her pink PJ’s. Her coke bottle glasses sit crooked on her face while she peers down at me. I lean up on the elbows.
“Sorry. Was I talking?”
“It was more like yelling.” Sandy backs away from me looking annoyed and crawls back into her bed across from mine. We’ve been sharing a room here at Stuben's Home for Foster children for six months. It's an old Victorian with lots of rooms meagerly renovated for a group home.
I grind my knuckles into my eyes wiping away sleep and the dream comes back flooding through me. Nightmare is more like it. I hate when I have the really vivid ones. The monsters seem so real. I walk by them and wait for them to grab me. I know they want to, but they never do. My whole dream is me walking down a long path where the ground is made of melty red bricks; the only thing that changes are the types of beasts on the trail.
They really bothered me so I did tell my mandatory shrink about them. All foster kids in the system have to meet with a counselor every six months minimally. You can go more often if you need it. A few of our house mothers are counselors. I already had to show up so I thought I should tell her about them. In a very diagnostic way, Dr. Eve explained (filled with medical terms) that these dreams are manifestations of my lack of control over my home life and feelings of abandonment. My initial thought was, hey, maybe they’ll stop if I tell someone. Nope, didn’t happen, I still have the nightmares.
I turn on my side glancing at the red numbers on the clock, two a.m. I beat my pillow with my fist getting comfortable and I realize my breathing is labored. I close my eyes and count in my head to slow down my breathing.
Long beaks nod at me and I look down at my body. I’m wearing only fancy underwear, a lacy bra and boy-shorts. The monster’s gap at me as I walk by as if I were an underwear model on a long unending runway. Their rounded bald heads shift to the side following my movements. I walk on the shaky ground feeling confident. I’m not afraid. I pick up my speed and it agitates the monsters. Their claws arch up and extend sweeping out at me. I run. They chirp angry at my pace. I feel my arms pump with my speed. I am fast sprinting before a huge wing comes out of nowhere sweeping against my face. I have never been touched before in my dreams.
Panic rushes through me and I sit up, panting in the darkness. I woke myself up this time. I huff glancing at the clock, three thirty-five a.m. I bury my head in my hands and try to calm down, reminding myself that it was just a dream. It was a doozy, but just a dream. #amyrachiele #paranormal #YA #saturdayscenes

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<3 Mobster's Gamble Book 1 in the Chicago Mob Series (Newest Series with all of the Mobster action you love!)
Where a cult meets the Mafia! Mobster’s Gamble
Sometimes you just have to live with it! <3
Find romance and mafia action.
US http://amzn.to/1RWMl8d
UK  http://amzn.to/1KoUlse
smash https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/608044
KOBO https://store.kobobooks.com/en-us/ebook/mobster-s-gamble
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I have a lot planned for 2017, and you DON’T want to miss it! Keep up with all my latest news, giveaways, and more by signing up for my monthly newsletter! And best of all, I’ll give you a little gift–a FREE copy of Mobster’s Angel to get your year started right <3 http://www.amyrachiele.com/free-ebook/
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