Battle royale

     A class of junior high school students is taken to a deserted island where,  as part of a ruthless authoritarian program, they are provided with weapons and forced to kill one another until only one survivor is left standing.

The last concubine

     Japan, 1865
The women´s palace in the great city of Edo

     A sprawling complex, bristling with intrigue and erotic rivalries, the palace is home to three thousand women and olny one man - the young shogun.

     Sachi, a beautiful fifteen- year- old, is chosen to be his concubine.

     But Japan is changing, and as civil war erupts, Sachi leaves the palace and flees for her life. Rescued by a rebel warrior, she finds  unknown feelings stirring within her; but this is a world in which private passions have no place and there is not even a word of love. 
     Before she dare dream of a life with him, Sachi must uncover the secert of her own origins - a secret that encompasses a wrong so terrible  that it threatens to destroy her...

Vibrator

     The snow melted without leaving so much as a skin of  white on the ground.  It´ll be light soon, that´s how i it is at this time of year. That´s what the man said, and he was right. The morning sky flared up for a moment , and after that the air  filled with white light. The man didn´t waste a second putting his clothes, and even though i knew that he didn´t mean to be cold - this was a healthy sign of practicality in a man used to working with others - I still felt sad.
      He drove  the truck up to the building site. The wet tarmac gleamed, a surface of light stretched off into the distance. It took a little less than an hour for him to unload the doors. I made up my mind not to get dressed and waited for him there, naked, wrapped up in the bedding. The blanket  contained the heat from my body, the futon hugged my skin. There was an odour of sweat , different from the one I´d smelled earlier. Once again I dozed.

The devils whisper

     Three deaths  come in quick successions: one girl jumps from the roof of a six-story building; another falls in front of a train: and a third is hit by a late-night taxi. BUt how are they related? And are they accidents, suicide...or murders?
     Slowly, the answers are uncovered by sixteenüyear old Mamoru, the nephew of the unlucky taxy driver, who is being held by the police on charges on manslaughter.

I have the right to destroy myself

     A spectral, nameless narrator haunts the lost and wounded of big-city Seoul, suggesting solace in suicide. Wandering through the bright lights of their high-urban existence, C and K are brothers who fall in love with the same woman, Se-yeon. As their lives intersect, they tear at each other in a struggle to find connection in their fast paced , atomized world. 

Norwegian woods

     Naoko started walking the minute we hit the street, and i hurried after her, keeping a few paces behind. I could have closed the distance  between us, but something held me back. I walked with my eyes on her shoulders and her straight  black hair. She wore a big, brown hairslide, and when she turned her head i caught i glimpse of a small, white ear. Now and then she would look back and say something. Sometimes it would be a remark I might  have responded to, and sometimes it would be something to which I had no idea how to reply. Other times, I simply  couldn´t hear what she was saying. She didin´t seem to careone way or another. Once she had finished saying whatever she wanted to say, she´d face front again and keep on walking. Oh, well, I told myself, it was a nice day for a stroll.

Imekummaline

     Seitsemeteist aastane  näitlejahakatise Kelley Winslow jaoks on haldjad vaid tegelased lapsepõlve muinaslugudest. Siis aga kohtub ta Sonny Flanneryga, kellel terashallide silmade taga peitub sama terasene soov teda kaitsta.

Lapsehoidjad

     Kolm noort tüdrukut tulevad New Yorgi rikaste linnaossa lapsehoidjateks. Igaühel on oma mure: Laostunud perekond, igav elu maakolkas ja õnnetu armastus. ehkki lastega on kõvasti tegemist, leiavad tüdrukud aega ka pidu panna, armuda ja uudistada prominentide maailma, kus sähvivad välklambid ja kantakse kõige kuulsamate moekunstnike rõivaid.

Radiance

     Most people think that death is the end.
     The end of life - of good times - the end of, well, pretty much everything.
     But those people are wrong.
     Dead wrong.
     And i should know. I died almost a year ago.

Enesetapuklubi

"See hakkab juba tüütuks muutuma! Kui palju võib sama asja korrata?"
     "Tüütuks? Sa mõtled kogu selle põnevuse juures?"
     "Sa tead küll mida ma mõtlen!"
     "Ma tean, et sa oled nii suur sitapea, et su ajud haisevad! Sa pole tüdinud. Sa oled kõike muud , sa oled eputis, kuid mitte tüdinenud."
     "Ma olen tüdinenud!" Tüdruk sirutas käe õlle järele.
     "Sellepärast, et sul puudub fantaasia!" ütles poiss talle pudelit ulatades.
     Ta vaatas, kuidas tüdruk jõi, kallutas pea kuklasse, nii et võis näha tema kõrisõlme liikumist kuuvalgel. Tüdruku peenike kael oli nagu jupike heledat posti. Habras. Kaitsetu.
     "Mida me siis nüüd teeme, härra fantaasiarikas?" küsis tüdruk, kui ta pudeli lõpuks langetas.
     "Viitsütiku," ütles poiss tagaistmel. "Meisterdame mingi lõhkekeha ja sütiku. Midagi, et saaksime olla ise kaugel, kui see juhtub."
     Poiss tagaistmel oli tüdruku sõber. Tüdruk oli ainus, keda poiss oli kunagi sõbraks pidanud. See pakkus talle mõningaid privileege. Lollide ettepanekute esitamine kaasa arvatud. 

Vampire romance

     Love is a weapon in the face of evil


     Over 30 short stories of hot blood, midnight pleasures and inhuman passions. In the world of the undead there are strange codes of conduct, dark rituals and dating games, as they seduce the locals and engage in the most sensual encounters you´ll sink your teeth into this side of the grave.

Shiver

     Mäletan, kuidas lamasin huntidest ümbritsetuna lumel kui väike punane ja soe laik, mis järjest külmenes. Nad lakkusid mind, hammustasid mind , rappisid mu ihu, tungides järjest sügavamale. Nende kobaras kehad varjutasid selle vähesegi sooja mida päike andis. Nende kraedel helkles jää ja nende hingeõhk moodustas läbipaistmatuid kujundeid, mis hõljusid meie ümber õhus. Nende kasukate muskuseline lõhn meenutas mulle niiskete koerakarvade ja põlenud lehtede meeldivat ja õudusäratavat hõngu. Nende keeled sulatasid mu nahka, nende hooletud hambad rebisid mu varrukaid ja tirisid mu juukseid, tungisid vastu mu rangluud ja kaelal asuvat pulssi. 
     Oleksin võinud karjuda, kuid ei karjunud. Oleksin võinud vastu hakata, kuid ma ei teinud seda. Lihtsalt lebasin ja lasin sel kõigel toimuda, vaadates talvist valget taevast enda kohal halliks tõmbumas.
     Üks huntidest pani oma nina mu peopessa ja seejärel  vastu põske, varjutades mu näo. Ta vaatas mulle oma kollaste silmadega otsa, samal ajal kui teised mind igalt poolt sikutasid.
     Vaatasin nendesse silmadesse nii kaua, kui sain. Kollased. Ja lähedalt paistis nendest igat värvi kulla ja pähkelpruuni sädelevaid varjundeid. Ma ei tahtnud, et ta oma pilgu mujale pööraks, ja ta ei teinud seda. Tahtsin tal kaela ümbert kinni võtta, kuid mu käelabad jäid liikumatult  rinnale ja käsivarred püsisid  jäätunult keha vastas.
     Ma ei suutnud meenutada, mida tähendab soojatunne.
     Siis oli ta läinud ja ilma temata tungisid teised hundid veelgi lähemale, liiga lähedale, lämmatades mind. Miski paistis mu rinnal võbelevat.
     Ei olnud päikest ega valgust. Olin suremas. Ma ei suutnud meenutada, milline näeb välja taevas.
     Aga ma ei surnud. Kadusin lõputusse külmusesse, kuid sündisin seejärel uuesti, soojuse maailma.
     Mäletan üht - tema kollaseid silmi.
     Arvasin, et ei näe neid enam kunagi.

     

Piercing

     A small living creature asleep in its crib. Like a labratory animal in a cage, thought Kawashima Masayuki. He used the palm of his hand to shade the penlight so that it illuminated only the babys form, leaving the rest of teh bedroom in darkness. Leaning in closer, he silently mouthed the words fast asleep. As Yokos pregancy had progressed and the fact that he was actually going to be a father began to sink in, hed worried  that the baby might have difficulty sleeping. Kawashima had suffered from insomnia since elemntary school, and, after all, his blood would run in this childs veins. He´d heard it was normal for newborns to sleep virtually around the clock; in fact, he seemed to recall some child-rearing expert describing sleep as an infants "job". What could be more tragic, then, than a baby insomniac?

Printsessi päevikud X

     Mia Thermopolise nimekiri  suurtest ja rammusatest valedest, mida ta on kõigile rääkinud.
Vale number üks: esiteks on loomulikult vale, et ma kõigisse õlikoolidesse sisse ei saanud. (Seda ei tea mitte keegi peale minu. Ja direktor Gupta. Ja minu vanemate.)
Vale number kaks: minu lõputöö kohta. Noh tegelikult ei olnud see mitte oliiviõli tootmisest Genovias umbes aastail 1254 - 1650, nagu ma kõigile rääkisin, vaid neljasaja leheline armastusromaan.
Vale number kolm: see, mida ma just Lanale rääkisin- et ma ei saa temaga koos šoppama minna, kuna pean pärast kooli John Paul Reynolds-Abernathy IV- ga hängima - kui tõde on hoopis... nojah. See pole mitte ainus põhjus , miks ma ei saa šoppama minna. Ma lihtsalt ei taha sellest talle rääkida, sest ma tean, mida ta ütleks. Ja ma lihtsalt  tunnen, et ma ei suudaks praegu  Lanaga jageleda

Printsessi päevikud IX

     Ma tunnistan, et olen tähele pannud, kuidas riided viimasel ajal nagu kitsamaks on jäänud. Olen kandnud oma stretšteksaseid. Ja rinnahoidjatel kasutanud otsmisi haake. 
     Isegi siis jäävad mulle riietest vorbid ihule.
     Aga kui ma täna hommikul oma lemmikrinnahoidja selga panin, tekkis mulle lausa vormikas  dekoltee, sest see surus mu tissid nii tugevasti teineteise vastu.
     Just nimelt. Mul on tissid, mida kokku suruda. Mul pole aimugi, kust need tulid, aga ma vaatan alla ja seal nad olid. Halloo! Tissid!
     

Sputnik Sweetheart

Why do people have to be this lonely? What´s the point of it all? Millions of people in this world, all of them yearning. Looking to others to satisfy them, yet isolating themselves. Why? Was the earth put here just to neurish human loneliness?

       I turned face-up on the slab of stone, gazed at the sky and thought about all the manmade satellites spinning around the earth. The horizon was still etched in a faint glow, and stars began to blink on in the deep, wine-coloured sky. I gazed among them for the light of a satellite, but it was still too bright out to spot one with the naked eye. The sparkling of stars looked nailed to the spot, unmoving. I closed my eyes and listened carefully for the desandants of Sputnik, even now circling the Earth, gravity their only tie to the planet. Lonely metal souls in the unimpeded darkness of space, they meet,  pass each other, and part, never to meet again. No words passing between them. No promises to keep.