The Phantom of the Shadows_Terminated from a Job to Finally Live_Hanging Chad_Crimson Spurts
Catalog Guide:
The Phantom of the Shadows
“Don’t ever trust a soul, Vivian. This world is a very cold and wicked place.” Those are the warnings of my mother. To her, I am a normal girl, innocent, naive, and young. She’s worried for my safety as any mother should be, yet little does she know how wrong she is.The world should be scared of me.Because here I am, at home on a beautiful Saturday morning, having tea with a woman. A woman that I www.onedoor.ccplan to kill.Let me explain. To put it quite candidly, I am a hitman. I kill people for living. Which is quite ironic considering most hitman are, well, men. You don’t typically see many women in this...
Terminated from a Job to Finally Live
Nicole sits down in front of the Sheriff, and he says, "You're a great Deputy and an asset to this agency. You have done a lot of amazing things here. However, none of that matters." Her heart melts to the floor, the same way the weight melted off her shoulders when she got sworn in, and tears run down her face. Nicole pleads for her job, states she is not done yet doing the work she had to do, feeling like she still needed to change lives and help people. She is getting fired. But let's go back to how it all started.May 30th, 2017, "Nicole West," as the announcer calls her name, Nicole approa...
Hanging Chad
Warning: violence with sexual themes.“Back in the day, a case like this would have been cut-and-dried, wrapped up in a day or two. We would have called it suicide by hanging — end of story. These days, however, everything’s more complicated. In my opinion, what we see here is not a suicide nor is it a murder. However, and because of who the victim is, there will be demands in the department to call it murder.”Cassie Mulroy was speaking to me, quietly but firmly. She was the lead detective in the police department. She had been serving for more than 20 years and when she thought out loud about ...
Crimson Spurts
I wouldn’t have come home, had my brother not left it.I alight from a black and yellow auto-rickshaw. My parents are not expecting me. So, nobody picked me up from the railway station.I pay the driver. He turns the tri-wheeler around and sputters away. I stand in front of imposing gates, with pink and white bougainvillea bursting from its sides. My hands tremble as I unlatch it after nearly 5 years. I crack it open just enough for me to slip in with my backpack.The sweet fragrance of jasmine tries to ward off the bitter memories emanating from Casablanca. The crimson spurts of hibiscus suit it...