There Seem to be No Time_In the Dead of Night..._Dared Into Submission_Sammy's Window
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There Seem to be No Time
There seem to be No Time The wind whispers under the rustling leaves of the avocado tree. It is eight in the evening with three quarters of a bright moon stealing through the fragile twigs. It is one of the nights of a pandemic era. There is also one more sound mixing with the wind. Wait, here again … a very faint inaudible... Now it is gone. There is a hovering wish that the pandemic would be gone as it mysteriously appeared from no were, in no time. She stood in the middle of small patch of the trees longing for what she hopes for. Had he been upset? … I will tell him I am so … ry … There .....
In the Dead of Night...
The man in the grey fedora was there again, a blackened Mackintosh slung over his shoulders. His burnished bronze eyes shone in the blistering darkness as the disrupting rays of disco lights shone on the patches for his skin. The man, slowly, pulled his eyes away from the prying eyes. He had to complete his mission after all. The burner phone’s ringtone drowned under the music of the roaring disco. The man pulled it out and pressed it against his ear. The voice over the burner phone monotonous and dreary, a formal slur on every word it spoke. “Did you plant it?” The man holding the phone s...
Dared Into Submission
"Fine, but I want real cash. Not hundreds, thousands," Ben had a bad feeling in his gut, one he couldn't seem to shake."Ben, buddy, you know we don't have that kind of money," Maximus said on behalf of the group."Listen to me, you idiots. This thing twww.onedoor.cchat you want me to do? It's expensive. It's worth a lot. If you think I'm going to do this for five hundred, then you really are that. Idiots, I mean-""But-""It's going to take me 24 hours to get the job done. At most. You have until then. Real cash, Max. Real cash."***The smell of county jail was of sweaty biker guys and rusty metal. Ben was chi...
Sammy's Window
Sammy sat absent-mindedly on the old brown study table near his window, he held a cup of coffee in his right hand. His gaze was focused on the dim yellow light which looked like it was fighting to be let free from the white window curtains, which now appeared yellow from the illumination. An observer would have thought he was a spy sent to watch his neighbors through the window, but his mind was far away. He wondered why he could no longer sleep, why his life had turned out to be the way it was, why he felt empty, why all the people who ever came into his life always seemed to be in a hurry to...