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midwestern gothic

[Document 1] – lost in the cache

And, since the computer itself will be immersed in old sloppy-joe and rotting paella, the vent ports will close up with grease and wet rice and the temperature of the internals will rise a few degrees.

shadowland

Maybe a physical shadow – skin cells left that have combined their DNA with the tendriled confusion of the clovered outfield...

haerie stories to tell in the park

More than that, though, the trees grew up like the earth’s own thick hairs – unkempt, unfettered. Cattails like whiskers filled in the low areas. And from every direction, the rot of the earth’s flesh puckered his nostrils.

faerie stories to tell in the park

...no need to cause any trouble, no need to watch her only child wander off and whisper strange things with a strange woman.

there’s a third person in this story

The gutter is stained with lives...

ren’s field

For now though, there was a hitch in my gate, a stutter in my stride. I moved like a broken automaton, a machine aware of the hows of survival but unaware of the whys of survival. I pulled my lips back from my teeth, licked my lips, and repeated that motion five times to loosen up the muscles that allow such an facial expression.

three out of four ain’t too bad

It was the result of a brokenness in his body.

times long past

He would sit there, with his tight frown, his pent-up bowels, his shoulders narrow again like a boy’s, his paper-thin skin shaking and he’d wait.

spread like snow on a windy day

Would you beat Old Franky like a rented mule rather than just let Old Franky be Old Franky?

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