The Dark Files of Lazarus: Case Number 13_The Goddess of Life_I Will Never_Trouble at 4B
Catalog Guide:
The Dark Files of Lazarus: Case Number 13
Lazarus, the city built upon the ashes of Los Angeles, has irony in mounds as high as the carbon-steel coins piling up in the newly formed vaults. Theo Baxton was the thirteenth child born into this city after its establishment. Blessed at birth, cursed at life - again, the irony piles on.Superstitions aside, young Theo had the average childhood of those in the city; a busy father, a mother who stayed at home making a side business for her personal hobbies, schools located on the outskirts as a means to accommodate all from different walks of life, rival gangs that start between said schools...
The Goddess of Life
Content. That is the word I’d use to describe my current condition. Surrounded by a warm substance, fed what I want at my slightest whim, surrounded on all sides by cushioned walls. Some would probably call where I am a prison; I call it paradise. Compared to the rest of my life, feeling safe and secure is more than just a bonus, it’s a delicacy I never thought to consume. A comforting female voice was my constant companion, whispering to me and planting her warm, loving hand on my head. Less common was a deeper rasp, but no less loving. Surprising in this ball of darkness, where sound was muf...
I Will Never
“Say the word, and we’ll leave.” My stomach lurches with each bend on the road. Outside the window, the world was black with night. My reflection stares back at me in the glass, and the lights from the dash casts an eerie blue light throughout the vehicle. The weight of the crockpot warmed my lap, and I grip onto the sides to steady myself and prevent it spilling. “I’ll be okay,” I say. “I’m not sure how many more Christmas’ we’ll have anyway.” “Great Grandma Charlotte still has years left, and if anywww.onedoor.ccone could get your Aunt Jude to shut it, it's her,” Mom says. “Jude may be stuck up higher tha...
Trouble at 4B
Frank Leary, 68 years of age, lived in apartment 4B in a drowsy, decrepit building on the corner of Gaston and Avery. With most of his days spent reading encyclopedias and passing judgement on pedestrians who spoiled the urban view from his window, he found peace in the silent company of his one-bedroom apartment at the very end of an otherwise vacant hallway. Short, stocky, and with a figure resembling a crouching toad, he was, in all respects, a peculiar man with an equally peculiar set of likes and dislikes. This included, but was not limited to, a rare appreciation for...