Sces took off running – he is prepared to run to the street’s end; however, the street does not have an outlet; it ends unto a brick wall that is scratched from fingernails and shoes and raw feet and teeth and stained with fresh and old blood and tears; all of which has been spent in an effort to climb it at the very moment of a needed escape. The street does not tell him of the deaths.
Short Stories
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Wow, very dark. I love it!