Tarnished Halos_A Slow Dance with Entropy_Great Jenny Grand_Girl in Shadow
Catalog Guide:
Tarnished Halos
Although fiction, this story contains murder, rape, and suicide.Tarnished HalosWhy do I keep torturing myself week after week? Sitting here staring out the window as this train slowly rips me away from my comfortable place. All four decades of my life have bwww.onedoor.cceen spent in Saint Andrews. First, a choir boy, then an altar boy, and four years of seminary school. The obvious next step was the priesthood. I've always known that I was destined to be a priest like my father, his father, and so on, four generations back. I have loved my parish members like my family for all my life. I applaud their achi...
A Slow Dance with Entropy
Dolores looked dispassionately at the man she was about to kill. It would not be a pretty kill, but none of them were. This one would be particularly gruesome, and she would quietly love every second of it. Randall McTavish, the man who had been dubbed ‘The Screwdriver Killer’ by the more sensational printed media rags, was lying on Dolores’ kitchen floor. He wasn’t restrained but he couldn’t move. He didn’t know why. The chill he felt in his soul and in his bones deepened, washing over him with irresistible force. For the first time in his adult life, he felt fear. “Pancurium bromide. One of ...
Great Jenny Grand
Contains a bit of foul languageGREAT JENNY GRAND Right now, I’m sleepily in the present and lying in my bed with my wife hoping, no, begging for a full night’s rest. I’ve been writing all damn day. I put on my eye mask to block the television glare. Drowsiness evades me and disappears like a morning first cup of coffee. Not to be deterred I begin counting sheep, pacing; one sheep, two sheep, three. The sheep jump a fence only to land in a barn. From the barn and I hear a pathetic bleating. Baa, baa, baa. I see fleece fly and bloody electric razor mistakes. So I shift and count 99 bottles of ...
Girl in Shadow
Anna Bailey looked up at the towering office building briefly before entering. The afternoon sunlight glinted off of windows that didn’t open, warming the indifferent glass-and-steel exterior just enough to make anyone passing by feel uncomfortably warm. Anna wasn’t passing by, but she still felt uncomfortable, and it wasn’t because of the heat. The elevator ride to the seventeenth floor was a trial; it would invariably stop innumerable times to let people on and off. Today, though, the elevator didn’t stop until it got to the floor of her choice. Christmas Eve in western L.A. Commerce gave wa...