Love Letters from Lexington Prison_Drinking with Death or: My Friend Josh, Whose Occupation is the E
Catalog Guide:
Love Letters from Lexington Prison
April 2, 2022Dearest Lou,I miss you so very much. Seeing you on Saturday only made me love you more. Did you get the $300 I put into your account before I left? To think that you are locked in that teeny tiny cell all alone keeps me up all night. My only solace is knowing I can visit you every weekend, even if it takes me 8 hours to drive to see you. I have enclosed the photo you requested of me and my daughter, Betsy. Have they accepted your request for a retrial? I know you are innocent of killing those girls. My Lou would never hurt anyone. I long to feel your arms around me. One day we wil...
Drinking with Death or: My Friend Josh, Whose Occupation is the End
Usually, when your average moron plummets from a warehouse catwalk into a dumpster full of sharp objects, he can think of only one thing to say:“AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!”But not me.I fall under the category of abnormal moron.A moron for two reasons. One, because only a moron would traverse a rickety indoor bridge with an expensive camera to capture footage of an industrial warehouse against his better judgment.www.onedoor.cc And two, because I was falling towards a dumpster stocked with pointy things.Abnormal because somehow, in a pocket of air, while kicking the emptiness and clawing at futility, I chose to be a...
1869 Gehenna Street, Hades
The heat erupted from the very rocks themselves. With no sun, orange light emitted from the glowing stalactites that jutted from the roof of the massive cave like giant flaming lances. Pools of sulfuric acid smoked and gurgled, belching fumes that burned the nostrils; fumaroles were burping dragons releasing acrid gases. This was 1869 Gehenna Street, Hades, just up the way from the Abyss. The apartments were carved into solid rock by wayward souls that had yet to earn a chance to hurl themselves into the eternal fire and be erased from the afterlife. It was here that Richard resided. It was he...
Harold Irresistible
Warning: Sexual theme (not explicit) and (brief) depictions of nudity.She wants me. The thought that went through Harold's mind as he shared the cramped elevator, surrounded on all sides with mirrors that couldn't hide the woman in the midriff-exposing halter-top that had been kind enough to hold the elevator door for him in the four-star hotel that tried so hard to pretend to be a five-star. No. Ten…eleven…twelve… Fourteen. That was Harold's floor number. But the next floor to light was fifteen, even though he'd hammered the button thrice with the knuckle of his index finger and watched it go...