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Vengeance

This story is dedicated to the fuck face at Goodwill one Sunday morning… Lyndon Crallis drove his car to Goodwill because he had a small donation to give. He drove down the path to the back entrance and found a mound of boxes and garbage bags full of stuff waiting to be picked up by

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Frost Wraith

Annabelle sat at the family piano in the great hall. The candles lit; the chandelier, glistening, spreading the light, revealing the room to any onlooker. There were none, however, though even if there were, their presence would be lost in the music. Annabelle’s nimble fingers gently rapt the keys melodiously, her prodigious skill echoing in

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The Game

No one knows who created the game. Maybe it existed when the first cars drove off the lot and onward to their destinations, but whoever it was probably didn’t see this coming or intend for it to happen. The game, as Harold Pfinster and his friends called it, was a driving game. On any stretch

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

I’m sure that when you landed on my page, you were astonished to see the heading there: Howlietzer Publishing.
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