The Lass We Found In London_Julian Fairthorn_And Then There Were None_Helping People Get Away with M
Catalog Guide:
The Lass We Found In London
I couldn't breathe through the burlap sack over my head. It was suffocating me. My arms were tied behind my back and my legs were tied at the ankles. They had forced me to my knees and left me here. I had no way of telling what time it was.After what felt like an eternity, I heard the door open, then shut. Someone with a strong grip cut the rope on my ankles and forced me to my feet. They led me to a different part of the room, and forced me to sit in a chair. Someone took the sack off of my head and the room had one light, and was barely brighter than the sack that was over my head. In front ...
Julian Fairthorn
Hi guys! Batool here. For those of you who haven't read "You and the train" and "Zita" already, go and read those two first and then read this one. I'll gladly wait:)Monster. Monster. Monster. You are a monster. What else can you be? A person who lost his parents, his siblings, his family, his wife, his relations, all because of his vicious nature. What else can he be called? There is blood, a lot of it. And, then there is Zita. Despite being bruised all over, a weak smile blossoms over her face as she www.onedoor.ccwhispers, "Jules, it isn't...over." And just like that, she is dead. Dead in your arms. Life...
And Then There Were None
Lonely.The colours of the next town remind me of children's toys. Every red is the exact same one, a brilliant cherry scarlet. Every blue is a bright royal hue, neither dark nor light. There are no trees, perhaps the foliage does not cooperate to be the same shade on every leaf. The street-lamps are the same canary yellow as the rain-slickers and the taxis. There is no pink, no grey, no orange or violet; but it is more than that. Nothing is sun-bleached, nothing scratched or chipped. The street is free of litter, the walls are unvandalized perfection.On my left, I see him. Ben. My Ben. I embra...
Helping People Get Away with Murder
Sun streams through the curtains of a small apartment in New York City; dancing on the walls and onto Mary's face. Dust flies and twirls in the air, almost as if being on a ballroom dance floor. Blue creeps from the lids of Mary's face and the sun strikes upon them making them slowly dis and reappear countless times before deciding to stay open.Mary had work in approximately one hour; a new client. This client was like all the other clients she had worked with before; paying her to wake up early and drag herself out of bed to have a little chat about something they did or did not do. She never...