After a week he was moved to a different wing and into a shared six-by-eight with a grizzled old con called ALF. He had faded tattoos that stained most of the visible skin on his hands, arms and neck a dull blue, sharp eyes and a thick beard that made his mouth look like an axe wound on a bear.

— R.D. Ronald

Anyone who says "Trust me" is the last motherfucker you should ever trust.

— R.D. Ronald

Around the outside of the room other beautiful women wearing little or nothing at all flitted between the infatuated, intoxicated men, sometimes luring them away for a private dance. The men would follow obediently, weighed down by lust and credit cards.

— R.D. Ronald

Blood began to flow, at first cautiously, as if embarrassed by its appearance; a few thin red lines exploring the gravitational trajectory of its new terrain. Now it flowed faster, steadily staining her pale flesh a horrific red.

— R.D. Ronald

Consider and then act, don't react. A worthy opponent will calculate his move to entice a response from you. Make your own play.

— R.D. Ronald

Deciding to wait, Scott sat down with a pint away from the bar at a corner table and lit a cigarette. The clientele in there on Sunday afternoon were the same as most other afternoons. From middle-aged to old men, drinking and cursing at the world like it was the last bus which had just left the stop without them.

— R.D. Ronald

He dropped the phone back onto its cradle, began to turn around and felt a sudden ice-cold furrow open up in his side. Strength drained from his legs, and a moment later he sank to his knees. There was warmth now that ran over the initial and persistent cold. Mohammed was confused, and barely noticed the briefcase being removed from his grip. He heard the click of a cell phone opening, and a soft beeping as a number was dialed.' The package is in my possession,' a female voice said, and the phone clicked shut.

— R.D. Ronald

He had done nothing on Christmas day, just wandered around outside in the frozen woods. Hard ground, chill winds and bare branches that looked like they'd been dipped in sugar. None of it seemed real, like walking around in a desolate dream, but one he didn't want to wake up from.

— R.D. Ronald

I'm the biggest critic of my own work, but sometimes you nail a chapter so good that you have to take a step back and admire that bitch.

— R.D. Ronald

Jack laughed behind him, a mirthless sound from a man who had been on the wrong end of life's ironies too many times.

— R.D. Ronald