Comments Posted By hoist
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That headband was the rattiest goddamn thing I had ever laid eyes on, and it stank of too-sweet cherry shampoo. Threads were hanging off of it in great sloppy gobs, and the color had long washed out in years of wear and woe.
When she wasn’t looking, I held it to my cheek, and breathed in.
» Posted By hoist On 11.09.2009 @ 6:39 pm
Incense ran up through my nose and settled into the brittleness of my skull, and I sneezed.
“Wasteful,” the woman muttered. I apologized.
“No sorry!” She flapped a hand, and a little ripple-snake-vine of the smoke swirled around it. “Just no do anymore.”
I nodded. My nose stung.
» Posted By hoist On 11.08.2009 @ 2:44 pm
Me and my arrow in the fields, yellow flower brown hare red grass still and silent body.
» Posted By hoist On 10.31.2009 @ 11:39 am
The scissors gleamed back at him from the tabletop, little scraps of slaughtered yellow cloth still stuck in its teeth. It was smiling at him.
“Maurice, come here.”
Maurice stayed where he was at the kitchen door.
Listen to your mother Maurice, the scissors smiled. Maurice hated Halloween.
» Posted By hoist On 10.29.2009 @ 1:44 pm
An aspect of criminology that you have to keep in mind is that all criminals are humans. Human blood, human thoughts, human wants, which means at the core there should be at least an inkling of humanity. The same is not always true for investigators.
» Posted By hoist On 10.22.2009 @ 2:46 pm
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I’d put the blonde mare away at least an hour ago, but still she was making nervous little tippering noises, little shifting noises, little uneasy noises, and I could hear her all the way from my blackgum tree. I ignored her pretty well for awhile but eventually the words in my book were too scattered to make sense of and I let myself get up and irritated.
» Posted By hoist On 10.21.2009 @ 1:27 am