Life, Stories

“I’ll Stop The World And Melt With You…” The Forbidden Saga

Connie wasn’t trying to be obvious, but she couldn’t help glancing at Nathan. They were in the back seat of the rented van, headed to a show they had both been contracted to play in. He tickled the ivories and she played the drums.

He was too easy on the eyes with his chocolate, bald head and goat-tee that framed very luscious, full lips. The things she wanted to do to those lips. Nibble, suck. Trace them slowly with the tip of her tongue.

Yeah. That would be nice.

She loved how playful his deep, brown eyes looked when they conversed about the animal and insect kingdom. She showed him a video of praying mantis dancing on Facebook. He laughed. Said she was crazy. And she loved every moment of it.

Every time he leaned in close to speak in her ear because the music was loud. Or the van made a sudden move and they were thrown against each other, she loved it.

Loved feeling the warmth of his body. The toned muscles of his arm and thigh.

And he smelled so good.

When they touched, she imagined him holding her in his arms. Did he even want to hold her? She couldn’t really tell. But there was something in the way he looked at her…

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Leel ~ Nyte Tales

Sometimes, you just feel the urge to see blood. For Leel that was all the time. Blood was his favorite color! It matched everything!

Yes, maybe he was a bit crazy. But who wasn’t? Being sane wasn’t so great. It made you worry about situations you couldn’t possibly control. Who wanted to live like that? In an undesirable state of constant frustration?

He didn’t. And he wouldn’t.

He let all of that anxiety go. Now he lives in the world of blood. Blood gave him peace. It didn’t over analyze right and wrong. It simply existed! How amazing was that?

So, he tried to off his best friend’s woman. In his defense, that pretty little Russian redhead was more than capable of taking care of herself. She was still alive after all.

Much to his dislike.

The point was, she was alive. Leel would do anything to make sure his best friend was happy. And if that meant keeping the woman he wanted alive, so be it. They would take down the people who sought to do them harm and he would make sure he saw red in the process.

 

The Disciples

Novels, Stories

Xen ~ Nyte Tales

Of all the Disciples Xen was the most responsible.

Well, he use to be.

Before the séance, possession, murder and night of utter chaos. Everyone relied on his calm demeanor and intelligence. He didn’t like to brag, but he was probably smarter than all of them. So when he made the decision to have Lasha do something she may not have been ready for, everyone was dumb founded. Xen didn’t make stupid decisions. He thought everything through thoroughly.

At least, he normally did. He meant well. But the road to hell was paved with good intentions.

Which he had.

Really good intentions.

He was curious. And what he planned wasn’t supposed to get out of hand. Lasha was not supposed to react so poorly to what they had done. It was a simple thing that would allow them to explore a time when superstition ran rampant. How bad could a little séance be?

Class was going to be livid. Probably murderous.

It was a bad idea followed up with even worse solutions. Xen had chased his friend’s girlfriend all over the city. Tried to give her time to get herself under control. Clearly she wasn’t capable of doing that, however. She was doing things that could get them all exposed for what they really were. He was going to have to take matters into his own hands.

Again…

 

 

Realm Sleeper

Nyte Tales

Life

Happy Life Strategist

I’m a connoisseur of happiness.

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That’s why I help people get back to the basics. Happiness doesn’t have to be a thing of the past! Together we develop a tangible plan to restore the joy that you once had. Sometimes it doesn’t take much to get you smiling again. Sometimes it does. Either way I am committed to help you through the process.

Click the link below to get started on your journey to happiness.

 

 

https://letssmile.acuityscheduling.com/

Life, Stories

Massage Chronicles “The Stalker”

So early in my massage 💆 career I had a creepy client that became obsessive, turned stalker. His name was Clay and he always wanted to talk about his “Little Clay”. 😐 My boss at the time would always schedule him with me because I did therapeutic massage and she didn’t. (She did Tantra) It got so uncomfortable that I just quit. Left my table, supplies, everything. Just never came back.

So then my old boss gave Creepy Clay my number. I know, why would she do that right? Apparently he kept asking her about me and she got annoyed. He called all the time.

Now, most people would have just changed their number. But I like my number. I’ve had it since the first cell phone 📱 I owned. So I wasn’t about to be bullied into getting rid of it for a creepy phone stalker.

So I did what any person in my situation would do. I got my cousin LaToya Perez to answer the phone 📞 one day and tell him I died in a car accident. She deserved an Oscar for the performance. Truly. And then, after he finds out I’m dead, he ask my cousin if she needs some company!

😐 The man was all sorts of crazy. But at least he doesn’t call me anymore.

#massagechronicles

Novels, Stories, Uncategorized

Class ~ Nyte Tales

Despite the incredibly long history Class had with women, he found himself utterly captivated by this Russian beauty that called herself Lasha. With her independent attitude and determination she found herself in the middle of a problem he was in charge of handling. There were some unruly groups in the city that needed to be dealt with. That’s what he and his companions were doing when they happened upon her.

They were in the mist of unruly, dark times. It was a situation that called for severe violence. The kind of violence that was not for the weak of heart. Or foreign beauties. She meant well, but she was in the way.

So he decided, much to her disapproval, to keep an eye on her. She was delicate and beautiful and extremely capable of killing him if given the chance. He like this spitfire! That’s why he blocked her attempts to get too involved. She didn’t know the kind of people she was trying to take on. Didn’t know that they could rip her apart. They would kill her without giving it a second thought.

He couldn’t let that happen.

She was a breath of fresh air. He’d been around so much darkness that he forgot there could be another way of life. He wasn’t a good guy. At all. He’d killed many of his enemies. They had it coming. They were just as bad as he was. Some even worse. Still, he wasn’t the type of man you wanted to bring home to meet your parents. He wouldn’t even pretend he was.

But he liked her. A lot.

She thought she knew what type of world she was stepping into. She had no idea. Things went more than bump in the night. And he couldn’t just let her go out in that night by herself. Like it or not, she needed his protection.

 

The Disciples ~ Krystle Nyte

The Disciples eBook

 

Novels, Stories

Lasha ~ Nyte Tales

So Lasha came to the United States when she was just twenty. She was all about saving people and fighting for their equality and basic human rights. She had a lot to offer the world! She was smart and ambitious and focused. She was so focused that she couldn’t see anything but her goals. She had a purpose that wouldn’t be derailed. At all. By any means.

Which isn’t always a bad thing…

Her father was Russian and her mother was Ethiopian. Her background was so diverse she believed she was more than equipped to handle social injustices that were happening in the land of the free. Let’s be real, it was 1949. Free was subject to extreme interpretations. She was not discouraged though. With all the issues stacked against her, racism, language barrier and cultural differences just to name a few, her confidence was so high nothing could touch it!

Now, Lasha was determined to fight the good fight. She was prepared for the battle at hand. She actually reveled in it. It made her feel powerful!

She wasn’t prepared for the handsome, older man that happened to intervene during a fight she was in, and losing, one night while she was tending to the well being of the people. In all honesty, she didn’t like being rescued or depending on anyone for help. With her abilities she should be more than capable of handling herself in a fight. But here this man was saving her as is if she was a damsel in distress! Uh-unh. No. Nope. That couldn’t happen.

Class, that’s what he called himself, would not let her assert her strong independent self. He carried her in his arms and tended to her injuries and smiled at her in a way they made her warm in places that she couldn’t cool. He seemed to know the lustful affect he was having. Enjoyed that she needed and wanted him. And she resented him for it. He was into some sketchy business himself. Things she wanted to put an end to. And she would! That was a promise she made to herself.

But even though she tried to resist those nagging emotions, her attraction to him just continued to grow! Unbelievable! Of all the things that could distracted her from her great purpose in life, did it have to be a man?

The Disciples by Krystle Nyte

Support independent publishing: Buy this book on Lulu.

Life, ministry, Stories

Late Night Realizations

When I sat and wrote out all the things I have done and the people I’ve helped with my business I realized something. I’m pretty successful.

It was like years of self doubt, feeling like I haven’t accomplished enough, had finally come to an end. Why was I crushing my confidence by dwelling on things I haven’t done yet? I should have been celebrating the MANY things I had! I taught a multitude of students to play the piano. I’ve helped many clients find a solution to chronic pain and stress related issues. They saw my value. They appreciated everything I did.

I didn’t make it as a singer, but I did record a song with two members of Blackstreet. Which for me was a big deal.

It’s too easy to focus on the things I didn’t accomplish. Too easy to look at my age and say “I haven’t done enough.” Even though I have done a lot. I realized that I am a recording artist, published writer, business owner, missionary, minister. I wanted to be a performing artist and I did it. I wanted to publish my stories and I’m doing it. I wanted to travel and I am.

As I sat up one late night, feeling like my life hadn’t turned out the way it was supposed to, I realized that I had accomplished a lot more than I gave myself credit for.  And I began thanking God for giving me the talents and opportunity to do so. When I realized I wasn’t appreciating the doors he had opened for me I repented. He has a divine plan for my life. Even if I don’t understand all of it I know it’s going to work out for my good.

So tonight I sit humbled and appreciative.

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The Family

Growing up I thought my dad had all the answers. Mainly because he had all the answers to every question I ever asked. Obviously, in my youthful mind, dad just knew everything. He was cool, never rattled about anything. And on top of that, he could build a basketball hoop out of a bed frame and some plywood. Clearly he was awesome.

My mom worked extremely hard. She was a RN. Her jargon was completely medical. Everything could be explained with medical metaphors and that infamous pathology book. She wasn’t laid back at all like my father. And her sense of humor was – well, medically morbid. My friends found her scary. She wasn’t one you’d want to test. My brother took a mean right hook from her once so I don’t blame them.

My brother Steven, the recipient of the before mentioned right hook, was my hero. I thought he could do no wrong. He was athletic, all my brothers were. But he was the oldest and in my eyes that made him bigger and stronger than the other two. He also had an uncanny habit of doing my spelling and math homework whenever he was talking to girls on the phone. All I had to do was wait until he got on the phone and ask for help. God bless him.

Brian, my very strange middle brother, is more like me than my other two siblings. Though he didn’t say much, I blame that completely on the headless chicken incident, but when he did I always found myself hanging on every word! It was normally a single word like ‘yes’ or ‘no’. Or a shoulder shrug. You have to love the shoulder shrug. It conveyed so much of his emotions. Even with the silent body language, I knew my weirdness matched his weirdness and that was a bond we’d always have.

Now on to my brother Tim, affectionately called Tim Tim by my parents and Timty by me. As a child he was humbly introverted. Wicked temper though! The boy could hold a grudge like a dog with a bone! He was two years older than me. I use to tag along behind him as much as possible. He was smart. Smarter than the average bear. His brain was like a sponge. He retained every drop of information he heard. It was like living with an encyclopedia. A well of knowledge was walking around my house and I loved knowledge. So of course I followed him everywhere. I was picking his brain.

This was my immediate family. The people who provided the many experiences that made growing up a Williams so memorable and so worthy to be told about.

Life, ministry

A Weary Soul

My spirit is weary,
Yet, the grace of God continues to strengthen me.
I live in a society where, if I acknowledge the racism I’ve dealt with then I’m part of the problem because I am told “If you don’t talk about racism it’ll go away.”
I hear my friends say ” Martin Luther King would be rolling over in his grave if he could see what his people are doing.”
Apparently every black person who cries out against injustices needs to stop because slavery ended over a hundred years ago.
And that we need to worry about black on black crime, because clearly no other race commits crimes against each other in a high percentage, no wait, they do.
My spirit gets weary because I know I am judged by the stereotypes of my race before the content of my character. I know that’s how it is, but I’m not supposed to talk about those things, because if I don’t they’ll stop happening.
My flesh wants to rise up when I hear people say “I don’t see color or race.” Yes you do and that’s ok. Our cultural differences is not always a bad thing.
To dismiss what it’s like living in black/brown skin when you never have is insulting.
But this is why I can continue to love beyond the mess. Ephesians 6:12 For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.