Hellhole_In Which Rudolf Chooses to Die_Number Seven_THE NOON STRIKES TWICE
Catalog Guide:
Hellhole
Mention New Amsterdam, New York and the response is either gushing love or hateful revulsion. When it comes to NANY, there is nothing between the two extremes. Some, however, have learned to embrace both sides. Seth Burdian, NAPD Precinct 47 Captain, was one of those.In elementary school PS 422, he was bullied by the larger students. He was short, even for a gnome, with a “classic” gnome nose, large and straight with wide nostrils, and large, round ears he didn’t grow into until well after puberty. His frizzy, medium-brown hair and olive-tan skin didn’t help. He was called “tinker” by classma...
In Which Rudolf Chooses to Die
The table is long and laden with ornate silver platters of food. There are oysters nestled in beds of gleaming ice, warm loaves of fragrant herb bread, and plates of dainty bacon-wrapped dates. Tall, thin candles flicker between the dishes. A towering croquembouche looms in the center of the table, threads of golden caramel gleaming in the candlelight. No one is eating. The guests seated around the table, all dressed in heavy, richly colored velvets, watch the man at the head. He stands on his chair, hands on his hips, chin tipped up. He strikes a regal figure, with his billowing burgundy shi...
Number Seven
Patricia Welmore, Agent 509 of the Seventh Lot-a private company much like the FBI however more open to the public- sat at her desk slaving away on her computer as she looked through all the files sent to her by her Supervisor Alexander Altor. All of them read of boring cases speaking of bursts seemingly of dull energy throughout the desolate country. Supposedly the agency believed that it was perhaps shock waves from the Ukraiwww.onedoor.ccne as an attack of potential war.Welmore sighed softly as she stood up after hours of having to sit. She walked, getting herself water in a bland paper cup which nearly ...
THE NOON STRIKES TWICE
The noon appeared at the corner and another wave of heat flicked my face with flaming fingers. I was lying down on the grass, enjoying the brief moments of summer breeze. Today was just the same as the other days of summer: hot, sticky, and nauseous. My fragile legs, my mom always said that they looked like wooden sticks, could never handle the accumulating drops of sweat rolling down my knees. Everything was saturated and it made me sick even to think or see.I was licking my popsicle while trying to avoid the sunlight; I hated to think that it could penetrate under my skin and alter all th...