Shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

It had all been planned out, she had X amount to do between noon, as long as she was on the road by 12:30 she would be able to make it back home to catch Junior's game.

Not like it was a real game ( Read more... )

The night had started off like any other night, but when the full moon was centered in the midnight sky evil broke out over the land.  The violence came from everywhere and no where and all at once.  Under the glow of the moon blood and screams spilled out into the streets giving the dirt roads a slick, silver river look that wound about all the ( Read more... )

Margret will barely let her husband tank off his sweater before launching herself at him in a loving tackle in perfect timing with his reach.  They just work out that way, being able to compliment one another in such a manner.  He feels good, so good, his arms, his mouth, the taste and scent of him ( Read more... )

Clumsily kicking around a soccer ball.

It's a truck stop.

Old school, the kind that still had showers and bunks so you can sleep off your eighteen hour long haul. With the kind of waitresses that still wore pastel dress uniforms with white aprons and called regulars 'sugar.' The pie is good, there better be good pie, and good chili, it's not a real beckon of trucking respite without ( Read more... )

Reading with Mouse, eating goldfish crackers.

Blood loss makes her hungry.  "Leave."

While conjuring illusions: "sleep my little babby."

[Eating Twizzlers and reading comic books.]

Back pew at Saint Mary, meditating.

Fresh blood, fresh tracks. The body is still warm.