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I Have My Addictions

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They’ve questioned what happened that winter night. “Why did she turn to drugs?” “What caused her death?” “What was her mindset?” The media plastered it all over the newspapers “another young drug related death” in an attempt to sell my story for the price of the black and white paper. My parents wept in a televised plea for an Antidrug Campaign. “We didn’t know what was going on. We knew she was going to a party but we had no idea she was involved with drugs”

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Managing The Zombie Apocalypse

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We had always agreed that if anything bad were to happen, we would go to my in-law’s place near Chama. It was a large log cabin located on a ridge overlooking the Brazos River and completely off the grid: solar panels for power, rain catch barrels for water, and cast iron stove for heat. Low population density and the remote location in a densely forested area made the cabin ideal for withstanding any number of natural or man-made disasters.

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The Rainmaker

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STOP DOING THAT!

David Krane knew something was wrong the moment he stepped foot into the town. Not just the sort of wrong he was used to. No, not that at all. It was really, really wrong.

Wrong was one hell of an understatement.


The unsettling fog shifted and spun around him like a spectral embrace as he walked, his heavy boots crunching on gravel and broken glass. He almost left cold fingers brush against his face, but it was probably the wind.

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The Waiting Room

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I was inclined to turn to the woman sitting beside me and ask, “Do you see me?” I really wanted to, but if she could I figured it would creep her out; and if she couldn’t, well, that would mean something worse. I had been sitting there for two hours -- watching people come, sit and wait their turn to be called into the back room, and then they were gone; I had been sitting for two hours and no one had spoken to me or even made eye contact with me.

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Pleased to Meet You . . . Not

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He walked around as his greasy three-inch pony tail bopped with him. He talked to no one in particular and everyone in general.

His suit stretched tightly over his abdomen and his trouser legs pooled at his feet.

His hustle was rehearsed as he worked the crowd in the Department of Motor Vehicles office in Coney Island, Brooklyn.

Prowling for last-minute clients to represent for a “small fee,” he was practiced at his game. The Administrative Law Judges were ready to rule on cases quickly, meeting a quota set  by the city. This meant he had to act quickly too; his card at the ready: “Harvey Millstein, Esquire.”

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A Photographic Memory

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Someone said, “Hey, Dave,” and I looked around to see who had called out my name, but no one in the coffee shop seemed interested in me.

That’s when I spotted him. It happens to all of us at some time or other. You see someone who looks familiar and you can’t remember how or when you knew them. But if you’re like me and you have something to hide, the sight of them is distressing.

Normally, I look forward to stopping for a latte on the way into work, but after seeing this guy, “normal” would never have quite the same meaning for me.

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Decay in Mechanical Dust

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He aligned the electronic key with the door and thrust it in. It entered with a quiet beep, and a surge of electricity piped at its end. The key turned as the work began. Reid Enstrom stood in the darkened street, glancing about, and waited for the job to be completed. Just as the clockwise rotation was nearing its end, the mechanism stopped, followed by a glaring red light.

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Crystal City Chills

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August 13th 2012. Crystal City, Arlington, Virginia.

It all began around four days ago. Anyone working in US Department of Labor, US Marshals Service or the EPA offices were all evacuated by an unknown agency out their buildings and into the Crystal Underground, our underground shopping centre. Given that most of Crystal City is essentially an underground city, it would seem the safest option in a threatening situation. At that point, no one knew what was really going on. Until we heard the screaming.

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The Man Who Wouldn't Die

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The subject known as X was a healthy fit and tone young man of about twenty years of age. X first came to see me a week ago. He was agitated and under extreme duress. Refusing a mild sedative, he demanded he be given a complete check up, including some procedures not normally associated with a routine physical examination. When he returned to my office yesterday I had the results of those tests.

And X had a most unusual tale to tell.

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Amazing Wrinkle Cream

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Phil Morgan, Carrie Lansing's agent, stood when she entered his office. "Carrie, good to see you.

"No small talk, Phil. Just tell me what you have for me?"

"Carrie, I'm sorry. There's nothing for you. People your age aren't getting the parts you want."

"I don't believe that. What about Seymour's new movie? I'm perfect for the lead."

"Carrie, they cast a 25-year-old girl. Look, you know the movie business. The public wants young faces. Carrie, you're too old for the parts you want.

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