It is possible to ever escape one's past life?

A question to which Jean Abelard had always known the answer but to which, as the elevator bore him relentlessly to the 15th floor of the Hôtel Pèlerins, he replied once more.

Never. Liar, thief. Murderer.…

Story is marked as mature

The veil waited, carefully spread over a chair back. All of the dressing room photos had been taken, the bridesmaids and her mother had taken their places, and the bride had a few moments to herself.

The mirror reflected her perfect form, the perfect dre…

The hidden thing inside the pipe twisted, thrusting deeper, spewing waxy slivers of ice in its wake – a fixed point around which their world revolved.

“It can’t be stopped,” he stated.

“How much further?” asked Srinin.

“A few hundred metres; a few …

The hidden thing inside the pipe twisted, thrusting deeper, spewing waxy slivers of ice in its wake – a fixed point around which their world revolved.

“It can’t be stopped,” he stated.

“How much further?” asked Srinin.

“A few hundred metres; a few …

I promise, I did do some testing before taking this site live.

Wand'ring through the glade like a lost Womble on speed, I sought refuge in the cleft of a sycamore tree.

Once upon a midnight dreary, I wrote a Ficlet - loud and clearly

Over many a quaint and curious volume from the days of yore

The first was wooden and splintery. Brittle. Damn thing would fall over at the slightest gust of wind. It wouldn't hold itself up, much less an entire fence.

This one, though... this one was made of metal. Stainless steel. It was solid -- and heavy. …

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