This is a work of pure fiction. All persons and events herein are fictional. Any and all resemblance to actual persons and events is purely coincidental. Persons portrayed are 18 years of age and older. Please comment. - Gene Marshall was in darkness. He had been in darkness since he walked in the dank room. He was quickly blindfolded and pushed roughly on...
Sometimes I wonder what the rest of my life might have been like if a road crew hadn't been tearing up a Central City street on that morning in June several years ago. Because of the project, I was detoured around a block of a residential subdivision I hadn't been in for many years. That's when I saw the intersection of Mayflower Street with Pilgrim Road. M...
He'd just started to take off his parka in the waiting room when she came out from her inner office dressed in a heavy coat, a scarf around her throat. She smiled the smile she always smiles - the "psychiatrist to patient smile." She spoke to him in her friendly, professional therapist voice: bright, warm, hopeful. "Keep your parka on. Did you do as I aske...
He stares at me with a mixture of pity and disgust in his eyes, and I sneer back at him, my contempt loud and clear. I didn't know it then, but that doorman would one day mean the world to me. ** My name is Peter 'Pinky' Benson. I'm twenty and a half years old, and I'm going to be all alone for the first time in the big city. I'm moving there to attend an...