Any resemblence of anything on this blog to anything that can be classified as good writing is purely coincidental and deeply regretted.
In case you are a closet masochist, you may continue reading (at your own risk of course).
Any development of suicidal/homicidal tendencies and/or a general desire to punch the computer screen are not the responsibility of the author.
Thank you. Come again.
Looking for something?
Category Archives: Fiction
He walked down the familiar road towards the large structure at the end of it. This was where the routine began. Every morning, he would take this walk , the same route, the same destination, the same excitement every day. … Continue reading
Remorse is only for sissies. Who the fuck cares or thinks about stuff like this after the job is done? It’s never mattered to me. I mean…what the fuck is it good for anyway? Only pansies actually sit back and … Continue reading
Father, It shames me to leave like this in the dead of the night, like a thief in my own house. It hurts me that I could not say a proper goodbye. But this had to be done. It would … Continue reading
Memories. Blasted things they are. Positively wicked I’d say. The right ones are never there when you need them. I wish we had a systematic catalogue for memories. This process would have been so much less painful. Sifting through all … Continue reading
Today was the day he was waiting for. Today it all ended. Today he walked free. The gate of the prison was opened and he walked out in the same clothes as he was dragged in so many years ago, … Continue reading
“Welcome, we’ve been expecting you.” A woman said cheerfully. Or rather as cheerfully as she could manage. She even smiled. It was scary. “Thanks” said Uther tenetatively. What do you say to the dead? What are their social practises? What … Continue reading
3:30 pm . The 10th of April 2010. The abandoned warehouse by the docks. George Saunders wakes up. His eyes take a while to get used to the dimly lit room. He tries to move. His hands are tied. His … Continue reading
Darkness. A knife. A scream. Blood. A dead body. A phone call. The Police. Only questions, no answers. No prints. No mistakes. No clues. A Discovery at last. A note. Instructions. The painting. The safe behind it. Documents. Secrets. Murders. … Continue reading