Jake stumbled out of the alley, splattered with blood and speckled with gunpowder. A bit of the blood belonged to him, but most of it had been stolen from the mobsters a few blocks away. Jake would argue that they had stolen the blood from others in the first place, and if he was able to donate this blood to a bank, he could consider himself a modern-day Robin Hood. Maybe with a squeegee
Turning his head, Jake looked at the street he'd wandered onto. A convenience store's lights still beckoned, though the crackling noises indicated the impending death of a few letters. Aside from that, the street was as dead as any other in this neighb
Dinner lies in front of me on the table. Turkey, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, green beans, corn on the coball just begging to be eaten. There are half a dozen chairs around, but five are vacant. I enjoy mixing it up a bit, picking which chair to sit in, depending on my mood. It creates the illusion of company, if I'm tired enough.
I'm wide awake now, though.
Hundreds of miles away, Jessica and Rebecca are eating their own Thanksgiving dinner, surrounded by their family. They're probably saying a few words about how grateful they are for their moms and dads and brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles, not really thinking much of
Mark's skin-tight gloves did little to ward off the cold emanating from the rooftop's concrete. Raising his hands, he grabbed the binoculars from his belt and zoomed in on the shipping dock in front of him. There were a few honest workers still bustling about, hauling heavy objects around and shutting down the machinery. It didn't take long for them to disperse, however, and their departure left an eerie silence in its wake. All that could be heard was the smashing of the waves against the dock.
As the wind whipped through his frame, Mark once again questioned why he hadn't made his costume thermal for the winter. He turned his head to the r
This alleyway was filthy, which didn't surprise Jake in the slightest. Alleyways weren't known for their cleanliness, but any alley in this city proved to be particularly disgusting. Directly to the right, a hobo was sleeping soundlessly under a make-shift newspaper blanket. Despite the sadness of the scene, Jake took a certain comfort from the hoboit was familiar, and familiar was good.
As he cocked his head to the left, Jake could see rats climbing into the garbage pails, ravenously seeking sustenance. The brick walls surrounding him displayed vulgar graffiti, and, as he dared to inhale, he could practically taste the death and deca
You've always been a good boy.
--
When you were born, you didn't cry much. The doctors were worried at first, but after checking your vitals, they determined that you were just fine, and they handed you back to your mother. She held you languidly in her arms, a puzzled expression on her face. Claiming she was tired, she gave you back to a nurse. Your father stood beside the bed, hands trembling, and you could hear the metallic clang as the scissors fell to the floor.
You were carried away to be cleaned while your mother drifted off to sleep. As soon as she woke up, your mother asked to take a shower. Your parents didn't see you again until
Rami glanced over at his breathless partner, whose face was concealed by the pillow he'd succumbed to minutes before.
"Where's Ivan when you need him?" he mused innocuously, grinning down at Sasha. The bed creaked as Sasha pushed himself up, still panting, to glare daggers between Rami's eyes.
"HeyI didn't mean it that way!" Rami scoffed. "Besides, Ivan's boyfriend is supposedly possessive and huge. And by huge, I mean, bigger than this goddamn building. And while I don't mind getting on his bad side, I really don't want you on his shit list." The glare remained. "Oh! You mean the whole 'don't talk about fuck buddies while we're in be
February 14th, 1945
The Saxon Mountains are beautiful. If Rami's heart were still beating, his breath would have been snatched away by the sight. Stilled, he takes in the verdant hilltops, the jagged peaks, the arched edges, and the sandy surfaces. Standing on this mountain makes him lightheaded, for few things have retained their beauty in the aftermath of industry.
He walks over to the precipice from which Sasha's legs dangle innocuously. The thick scent of death lingers in the air like dust. Bombs roar ruthlessly far in the distance, complemented by the screams of the dying and the collapsing of buildings. Rami squints to make out the sh