31 Short Horrors!

Darlings! 31 Short Horrors is COMPLETE and READY FOR YOUR EYEHOLES!

Get it for FREE for a limited time at Smashwords with coupon code KU45W

This collection is the result of three years of agony and ecstasy and all the laughs and tears in between. I really hope you check it out because I worked my bazoombas off to put it together for you. Honest to gawd, 31 complete works in one spot? For free?

I’m a giver, that’s what I do.

final cover


Save Me

Save me break me need me lead me

You cannot see my eyes

You cannot see my cries

You cannot see these ties


Love me take me beat me reap me

You will not hear more lies

You will not hear more cries

You will not hear us fly


Trust me hear me see me feel me

I cannot share my fears

I cannot share my jeers

I cannot map these final steps of we three buccaneers


My map is hidden from you

Too profound for you to dig


This plan I cannot give you

Can’t believe you will forgive


My mind the tornado

Coordinates are lost


Directions to and fro are only

Obtained at my long cost


These open grounds a fireplace

Gas stove open floor plan ours


But I can’t give it up because

To you, not real, but sour


I can’t give you myself, my own self

To thine own be true

I’m making progress but til I land

Edinburgh due

I cast my lot, my chance, my heart

To my dear love I’m true

But please hear me see me feel me

My own love, all us, for you.

copyright 2017 Shannon Cooper

ETA: I received a heap of derision and criticism on this piece when it was first published. In response, I deleted it. Then I thought, nah, fuck that, nobody gets to tell ME what and how I write. Anway. Hope you enjoyed that tiny backstory.

The Password is


up the path, words taken back, habits reattached.


up the scroll, heart on the toll, paid in full.


just an internet person, not a real person, not anymore.


a previous window, a former format, an erstwhile conversation.


Hope floated, mistakes gloated, egos bloated.


Just as far as hope.

Dip into the seafoam and try to trap the bubbles in the webbing of my thumb.


to be kind. to find time. to hold hope.be kind rewind

Burn the World, Volume 1

My first full-length novel is available FREE at Smashwords!

Fiona had a rough start in Kentucky, but she worked her way out and now has everything going for her: a thriving medical spa chain in Miami, great friends, and a hot tub on her rooftop deck. When not one, but two men of her dreams arrive in her life, she must choose between a volatile artist who gave up his entire life in New York City to be with her, and a gentle, intelligent, media writer with a nightmare of a mother and a psycho ex-girlfriend. Chemistry alone won’t be enough to decide between these two! The sex is terrific, but what *is* love, and what *is* absolutely necessary in a partnership?

Look for Burn the World: Changeable Skies (Volume 2) out July 26!


The Rope, Sliced Through (a #31ShortHorrors Tale)

The Rope, part 1

(note: this poem is based on Neneh Cherry’s single Love Ghetto, from her album Raw Like Sushi)

I hit a home run on the last stretch of life

Finding you finding me

Seems so long ago

I focused on the rope across the canyon

I focused on the rope across the ocean

I focused on holding on, I searched for your oars

The weather ripped at the rope

We nipped at the rope, others hacked at the rope

Sharks gnashed at the threadbare rope

The rope shivered and shook as I inched across

Tugs from behind shook my grip as I crawled

Halfway there, no longer stuck on my island

You saw the tugs as my receding

I crawled, I lost my grip in the wind

I clawed my way back up the ravine, began again

A puddle of misunderstanding like a sea between us

Come rain come shine, I crawled and I clawed

Leave the love ghetto behind, I crawled and I clawed

I made it partway once more when I saw you take your knife

Convinced I’d fall, what your eyes tell you

Your ears can be deceived

And this chase is haunting me

I focused on the rope as you chiseled with your knife

Just a trim, just a butter knife

It isn’t all that sharp

But dull knives still slice damaged substrate

With enough persistence

The sharks were swimming up for me

As I clung on to the rope

You were calling out to me

As I clung on to the rope

Terrified, I cried out too

And clung on to that rope

Good intentions bad connections

I saved you from saving me

Forever is only like the sky and the sea between us

The winds of time and distance, mangled language not believed

The teacher keeps on crawling but will never be relieved.

The Rope (a #31ShortHorrors tale)

Stolen Paradise

Shouldn’t talk about it

But we have to and we do

What happened to our Paradise?

Stuck in traffic, the traffic of life, the traffic of reality

Suspense controlling my mind

I have to find my way out of here

Maybe I can tunnel out

Or open the front door and just waltz out into the sunshine

The bitter cold air on my free face

Free fall into the void

I know what’s on the other side of the void but I’m scared of the journey

Travel is a necessary part of life and how one learns

I need to learn

I need too much

I need to travel and run and escape

The void is not nothing

The void is everything loud and brash and too much

The route through the void is a tightrope

Not tightly strung

It’s loose and fraying and swaying in the wind

I have one tool for balance and it’s unreliable

I lose my balance so often though my target never changes

It moves

As I move

Creeping, crawling, along the rope, so slowly

It seems I’m not moving at all

Millimeters at a time but forward progress to forward Paradise

I’m halfway there, halfway across

It’s so loud and bright and swirling so fast around me

I focus on the rope

Not on the frayed broken strings

I focus on the rope

Not on the wind that throws me off, hanging on by my raw fingertips

I focus on the rope that will take me to Paradise

My yellow brick road is unsolid, wavering, shuddering but clear

My Oz is real

This rope is real and

I focus on the rope.