The doors slid behind me and pushed to the side the smell of cigarette. Smoke leaking out from a burnt bud…
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The green imp waits crouched behind the styrofoam boulder, climbing it slow with his gloved, webbed hands. Coming over the top…
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The cigarette smoke went up towards the caged swinging light, up and around, blending with the smell of bacon and choking…
Dear Mortiarti, I’ve always found my city strange. Too strange in fact, and am glad to know someone else feels that…
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