The Outside Corner_Fratricide_Life's Rich Pageant_The Dark Files of Lazarus: Case Number 13
Catalog Guide:
The Outside Corner
The business-sized envelope was new with sharp, square corners and it was stuffed, taking up almost as much space on the bar as the spicy club wrap on Mike’s plate. Benny the bartender, the owner of the joint, walked by with a passing glance as if he had seen it all before, and moved on to wipe down some tumblers on a rectangular black tray. Mike stared at the envelope for a long while, wondering if he should even touch it. Would he soil himself if he did? Would he be a cockamamie fool if he didn’t? After all, this was a thousand crisp American doll...
Fratricide
Adam’s target was fixed in the scope of his rifle; no tremors caused the crosshairs to shake, and nothing obscured his view of his prey. Adam adjusted until the lapel of the red plaid coat came into view, and hesitated. Steeling himself, he shook off his doubts, and fired. Although he was too far away to hear the scream, he knew it intimately. It was his brother.Adam thought he’d have felt some pang of emotion, killing a man. Killing Brian. But all he felt was hollow and numb, and in need of a smoke. He rested his rifle on the log beside him. It was all over now. Surely, the police would chalk...
Life's Rich Pageant
It was very sunny today and the doctor had told Mariwww.onedoor.cce to start wearing sunscreen. They had to take off a new skin tag recently, but at her older age she didn’t care. What was a few wrinkles to making her face all shiny and ruining her makeup. The lipstick had some spf or whatever they called it. On her way to the supermart she recalled that she had no cash. All she wanted was their milk and they had a ten dollar minimum to use credit card. It was a small store-too small to really qualify as a supermarket-a holdover from the old days before big box stores stated taking over. Until recently she ...
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...