The unlikely ones: Fate
They say that murder is the only legitimate theme in crime fiction; that anything else would fall short of the requirements for a good story. Continue Reading
It ain’t whatcha write, It’s the way atcha write it.” – Jack Kerouac
They say that murder is the only legitimate theme in crime fiction; that anything else would fall short of the requirements for a good story. Continue Reading →
She stood, her back towards him, in a very ominous way. Continue Reading →
A rich man had everything: A big mansion, stables and a beautiful wife, but the thing he loved the most was his parrot. Continue Reading →
“Facebook is not Tinder!” she wrote back to me, getting overwrought over a trifle. Continue Reading →
Where’s the other? Continue Reading →
The thing I remember the most about my grandfather was the day when he walked in on me masturbating. Continue Reading →
The song resounded in his head when he woke up. A nostalgic feeling pervaded him. Continue Reading →
m passing by Stary Browar’s parking lot. There’s a traffic light always in red, although no cars enter or go out. I jaywalk as usual. Continue Reading →
I woke up at 3 am and couldn’t go back to sleep. I couldn’t repress the bitterness from her words. Continue Reading →
When he looked at his mortality he felt like vomiting, though he didn’t know what vomiting was. Continue Reading →