A Short Story

Except for the Creole Community, who'd resorted to holding ceremonies and voodoo rituals to rid the City of 'The Vampire of New Orleans.'

The positioning of these pressure marks appear that they may have been made by the killer’s left thumb (the triangular shaped abrasion) and index finger (the smaller circular abrasion above the victim’s right jawline) possibly during manual strangulation prior to the application of the cord around the victim’s neck. The markings on the inner palm of the victim’s hand appears to be a heart drawn in a red ink, this marking may have been present prior to the crime. The idea that the victim may have drawn it there herself cannot be out

Sheriff Eldritch Meeks straightened his hat and emerged from the Chevy Bel Air. Its beacon singed into the back of his neck. Red. Eldritch watched thin sheets of dust sweep down the highway. Everything was fuzzy. He wiped rain from his eyes and took a deep breath. The knife twisted harder into his brainstem. Headaches. The pain was getting worse. Stabbing. Pinching. Wriggling. Eldritch needed a cup of coffee and a cigarette. He needed a fucking detox. But it would have to wait.

Booker arrived at the chapel early Monday morning, keen to get his debriefing with Tom over with as quickly as possible. He was professional enough to know he needed to put his disappointment to one side and concentrate on their assignment, but the sting of Tom’s rejection still lingered. He thought they’d made a connection, and he’d looked forward to building a solid friendship with the shy officer. But despite a promising start, he realized he now had no choice but to accept what Penhall had told him. Tom was weird, and his mercurial temperament made it impossible to break down the barriers that kept him at arm’s length. Whether Will was responsible for his brother’s character traits or not was still open for debate, but as far as Booker

“What do we have to do Austin? What’s this business all about? I wanna court Ms. Ellis and your interrupting me. Some friend you are. Can’t even let an Ol’ man have some fun.” Jess said. “We do have business Jess. If you’ll remember, last night we had a hell of a camp fire and somebody’s gonna be asken’ where the Wilson brother’s bodies are. We’re gonna have a talk with the Sheriff. Then we’re gonna give our ladies some special treatment.” “Oh, now that’s different. I knew you liked Lena.” Jess said as he slapped Austin’s shoulder. “I don’t and what do you mean like Lena? Besides those aren’t the ladies I’m speaking of. I mean Madame and Twighlight. Remember?” “Oh yeah, of course. I knew that.” Jess said. Then mumbling to

I sat there waiting for Stradlater to come out of the bathroom for like two hours, but he never came. Finally, after like a total of three hours, he came out.

One by one they stopped their singing to cry and embrace one another; they never finished the hymn.

It rained the evening before Shiro went to the edge of the world. It was a light rain, cool and

Ava got to work. The sheets came off the windows, leaving feeble, sheer, white curtains hanging from them. Light burst through the room. She opened the windows so fresh air flooded the room, catching the feather light curtains, blowing around her and suspending her in fresh serenity. A strong familiar scent came in from outside. She inhaled it until it was gone as quickly as it came, opening her eyes in bliss.

Another pocket full of change added to the jar after a day of work. Every penny, nickel, dime, and quarter has made into that jar for years. First he wanted a gun, for the annual hunting trip with his brother. Then he wanted a fancy saw to build some bookshelves. So Jim dropped the coins in the jar, and once it was full he counted, and recounted before rolling the change and making a trip to the bank. But now that he had his gun and his saw, Jim had his eyes set on a bigger toy.

She blinked, slowly waking up. The faint breeze flowing through immediately shook her – the windows were always, without a fault, locked tight at night.

Freeing myself from his embrace, I asked, "What if I say I don’t want to work for you?" He laughed and muttered, "Then you don’t. I remember how often you asked me to release you from your contract. I thought I should honor your wishes. C’mon. Let eat."

At some point in life we have all asked ourselves or have been asked what our reactions would be to endure a life altering tragedy. Some believe that they could never live through it and others naïvely think that life will continue is normal, taking for granted all the things in life a tragedy can take away from us. There are all kinds of tragedies in life, some people overcome them and some will give up, surrendering to the statistical fact that has been laid out for them. I personally know someone who beat his odds at life’s unexpected traumatic events, my husband Keith. Let me walk you through his remarkable story.

Among other public buildings in a certain town this building was the one at the end of the gravel road and through the dark creepy forest where little dare to go down , which for many reasons it will be prudent to refrain from mentioning the screams you can hear from a half a mile away, or the blood stains all over the walls the shattered windows that make a faint whistle when the wind blows , and to which I will assign no fictitious name and the clown they call Pennywise this creature that rarely comes out of the shadows, there is one anciently common to most towns, great or small: to wit, a workhouse ; and in this workhouse was born a devil child and the one who is in charge; on a day and date which I need not trouble myself to repeat,

The possession also allowed the Host to harness and use the limited technology of the Gods. Although not as powerful as an incarnated Angel in his prime, his dying avatar wouldn’t stand a chance in battle against the Nekrums’ Host.