Grindcarver
A Special Edition Nick Shadow Short Story
The City can be a tranquil place at night. The soft glow of the street lights, the yellow shine of hotels and apartments lighting the night, it could all be very peaceful.
The thing with Atlantia nights, though, was that every so often the usual city lighting was disrupted by the flickering of flames and the sounds of rampaging werewolves, bloodthirsty vampires, or, in instance of this night, destructive demons.
A figure dressed in a black, worn leather jacket and jeans hurled through the air and smashed through a Plexiglas bus stop.
Nick Shadow rolled to his feet, the usually human-visage dropped to reveal a creature of nightmare. Black hair stood up in places, eyes where blazing with an inner fire. Eye-teeth where elongated and sharp, and bared in a feral grimace.
The white t-shirt he wore under the jacket was torn, but only a little blood flowed from what ought to be gushing wounds. A sleeve had been ripped off the jacket, and long claw marks ran down the back.
Nick reached down and picked up the ancient cruciform sword that had landed on the concrete near him and, swinging it around once, turned to face his attacker.
Standing around eight-feet tall, Grindcarver was not a demon to be trifled with. His eyes glowed with and orange intensity that matched Nick’s. His hair was stuck up at odd places, as if just gotten out of bed. His beard was reminiscent of a olden day’s metal musician. His build was stocky, but powerful. When he talked, his voice sounded like a cinderblock dragged across concrete, gravelly with a lot of bass.
Nick whipped a dab of blood from the corner of his mouth and glanced up at the demon.
“Nice shot. Anyone tell you that you look like a Metallica reject?”
Grindcarver let out a booming laugh, “Your mom looks like a Metallica reject.”
Nick shook his head clear of being thrown forty feet, and started toward Grindcarver again.
“Leave my mom out of it.”
He swung with the sword at the demon, only to find his blow stopped by a metal stop sign pole that Grindcarver had yanked from the ground.
The demon gave the vampire half-breed a questioning look.
“A sword? You think that will hurt me, foolish mortal?”
Nick held the gleaming blade before him and circled the hell-fiend with intent to kill.
“It was a gift from a friend. Belonged to a knight who fought in the crusades, blessed by the Pope and everything. I figure if anything is going to be able to kill you, this would do the trick.”
Grindcarver’s eyes narrowed with barely hidden concern.
“Oh, really? You don’t say.”
Nick seemed to roll his eyes slightly, “I didn’t? Whoops, I sure had me fooled.”
The half-breed lunged forward and jabbed the tip of the blade at the hell-spawn, causing him to move back a few steps.
In response, the demon sent a burst of hellfire at the half-breed.
“You think you can really beat me, you and your little blessed sword, Half-breed?”
“Maybe not with the sword, but I can beat you.”
Grindcarver showed his teeth in a nasty facsimile of a smile and held his hands away from his sides.
“Come and get me, Vampire.”
Nick met the demon’s grin, “Okay, Demon.”
He charged, swinging the sword before him like a scythe, driving the demon backwards, onto the sidewalk, and onto the steps of the building behind them.
“So, demon, let’s see how you fare on holy ground.”
Nick leaped forward and kicked the demon with both feet in the chest. A normal man couldn’t have dealt the kick Nick did, but with his supernaturally augmented strength he was able to kick the demon backwards, up the stone steps, and crashing through the doors of the large church behind him.
Grindcarver got to his feet and threw his hand out at the hunter. When nothing happened, he looked down at his hand, confused.
Nick walked through the smashed door, sword held at his side.
“What’s the matter, demon? Hellfire not working for you right now? I thought being inside a church would limit you some.”
Grindcarver snarled and lashed out at the half-breed, catching the hunter by surprise and knocking the crusader sword from his grip.
Nick rained down blows on the demon, his ferocity and strength driving the demon back farther into the church.
Down the center aisle they went, exchanging blows as they went. Nick managed to throw the demon again, and the hell spawn crashed through six rows of pews before sliding to a stop before the altar.
Grindcarver got to his feet again, “Well, you have managed to get us on equal grounds. Congratulations.”
Nick laughed harshly, “Heh, Demon, everything about you stinks. The lines, the outfit, it all smells… kinda like sulfur. Tell me, do you ever take a bath?”
He threw a round-house punch that cause Grindcarver to stagger again and, while he was off-balance, launched a powerful side-kick into the demon’s stomach.
Grindcarver was sent flying backwards, into the baptismal pool. A pool filled with holy, blessed water.
The demon screamed as the water burned into his skin. His flesh peeled back and off the muscle, revealing veins, tendons, and bone beneath.
As soon as he had delivered the kick, Nick had spun on his heel and ran back to the front of the church to retrieve the sword. Snatching it from the floor and running back with unnatural speed, he got there just as the Demon was managing to get to its feet.
He drove the sword into Grindcarver’s chest, straight up to the cruciform hilt.
The demon stared into his smoldering eyes and Nick leaned in close.
“I will see you in hell.”
The demon fell backwards, sliding from the blade and into the holy water. Nick stood over the pool, watching the demon’s physical body melt into a bloody sludge at the bottom of the baptismal.
He watched until the last bit of solid matter had dissolved into water. Then he turned and walked out of the church.
As he walked down the steps he paused and turned to look up at the cross at the top of the church. He smiled slightly, his teeth glinting in the darkness.
“Heh, maybe there is a God.”
Friday, March 9, 2012
"Dead Drunk"
Dead Drunk
“Shadows: Stories of a Hunter”, Part Seven
Josh Wolvest walked into the bar and looked around. Marly’s Bar ‘n’ Grill was a favorite haunt for the hunters, the hunted, the special and the unnatural. For anyone who wanted to drink in peace when anywhere else they would be run out.
Joe Marly, the proprietor and bartender, modeled the place after an old western bar. Round tables with spindle chairs around them where scattered throughout the room. And in the back there where four pool tables on a raise portion of the room.
As you walked into the establishment, to your left was the bar. Behind the bar you could usually find either Marly or Jesse Markley, his stocky bombshell of a waitress. It was from behind this long counter you would find the many liquors, micro-brews, beers, and ales. Behind the bar area was a kitchen, from which juicy steaks and burgers were served along with thick fries and green salads.
Marly looked up from the glasses he was drying and stacking behind the bar.
“Officer Wolvest, can I get you a drink?”
Wolvest scanned the interior until he caught a glimpse of a dark figure in the back corner.
“Yeah, give me one of your best micro’s.”
The fat old bartender scratched his balding scalp and glanced at the figure in the back of the bar.
“You here to see him?”
Josh Wolvest pushed aside a stray lock of dark brown hair and popped a few peanuts from a bowl on the counter in his mouth.
“Yeah. He been here long?”
Marly nodded, “Since about nine-thirty tonight.”
Wolvest glanced at the figure, “And its nearing midnight now. How much has he been drinking?”
The bartender poured Josh’s drink and slid it across to him.
“A lot. Enough to kill a normal person, and even a werewolf would be staggering by now.”
The off-duty cop closed his bright-green eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Okay.”
Marly eyed the figure again, “You gonna talk to him? I was supposed to close up shop at eleven-thirty.”
Josh looked at the bartender, “Why haven’t you said anything to him?”
“I have met Vampires, cops, mercenaries, assassins, Werewolves, and many other unsavory and violent characters. They scare me, sure. But the look on his face, the steel in his voice when he came in here tonight, it terrifies me.”
Josh gazed at the hardy older man. Not much phased Marly, and for the dark figure to inspire that much fear in the man said a lot.
“I’ll talk with him. Put whatever he has had on my tab”
Wolvest left payment on the countertop and, picking up his drink, crossed the bar’s floor the where the figure sat, shrouded in darkness.
“Nick, how is life?”
Nick Shadow, Vampire half-breed and hunter of mythical monsters, looked up with smoldering eyes.
“Josh, life is hell.”
Josh sat down across the table from Nick and looked with amazement at the collection of bottles on the table in front of the Hunter.
“That’s… that’s a lot of alcohol.”
Nick laughed harshly, “Heh, Not enough. It’s never enough.”
Josh nodded, “Want to tell me what the occasion is?”
Nick remained silent for a moment, then his voice whispered across the table to the other man.
“I saw Susan tonight.”
Josh’s eye’s widened, “Oh… like, “see her” see her or…”
The Hunter shook his head, “From a distance.”
Wolvest set his drink on the table among Nick’s glasses and bottles.
“How did she look?”
Nick smiled, and his usually emotionless face almost managed to convey sadness.
“She looked good… She was beautiful.”
The Hunter’s smile suddenly turned nasty, his fangs glinted evilly from behind his lips and his eyes narrowed to two gleaming red pinpricks. Even his hair seemed to rise slightly, adding to the unnatural rage that welled up from the once-human’s unbeating heart.
“Life! Life is such a bad joke! It allows you to remain a hair’s breadth from everything that makes this existence worthwhile, but at the same time prevents you from touching it! Do you know, I can’t become drunk or even intoxicated? I can’t die, even by my own hand, and believe me I have tried!”
Josh looked down, unsure what to say to the half-dead. Finally, he looked up into the Hunter’s raging face.
“Nick, I can’t begin to understand what it feels like. You know I lost my father in a gang-related shooting when I was young. And my mother died before that of cancer. I only know loss; I only know what it is like to have to do without something you can’t see anymore.
But what I have learned is that what we lose makes us what we are just as much as what we have. Because of my father’s death and my search for vengeance, I took a path that led me to here. I became a cop, took on my dad’s old job, and made it so much more than he even dreamed of.”
Nick snarled quietly, but let Josh continue.
“You were a cop as well before the Vampire tried to turn you. Yes, you may have lost your life, but you gained a life at the same time. You have saved so many people since then, people who may have died had you not been attacked by Proteous. I know it hurts to look back at your old life and see what you lost. But you can’t dwell on it, it will tear you apart. Please, remember that. The past is the past for a reason, you cannot always be looking to it if you wish to move into the future.”
Josh threw back the rest of his drink before getting to his feet.
“There is nothing more I can say. I paid for your tab, now the only thing I can ask is that if you still feel the need to feel sorry for yourself, you go somewhere else to do it. Marly needs to close up.”
Nick’s features had settled back into their normal impassiveness.
“Josh…”
Josh Wolvest turned to look at the Hunter, “Yes?”
A sharp canine fang was revealed in the Half-breed’s smile.
“Thank you.”
Josh simply nodded and, exchanging glances with Joe Marly on his way out, left the bar.
Nick rose to his feet a few moments later and also exited the bar. He stood outside the door for a minute, staring at the crescent moon in the sky.
Josh was right, Nick’s past was just that, his past. And while he could miss all he wanted, he could never get it back.
Besides, Nick Malcolm, Atlantia beat-cop, husband and father, was dead. Only Nick Shadow, Vampire Half-breed, protector of mortals and hunter of monsters remained.
“Shadows: Stories of a Hunter”, Part Seven
Josh Wolvest walked into the bar and looked around. Marly’s Bar ‘n’ Grill was a favorite haunt for the hunters, the hunted, the special and the unnatural. For anyone who wanted to drink in peace when anywhere else they would be run out.
Joe Marly, the proprietor and bartender, modeled the place after an old western bar. Round tables with spindle chairs around them where scattered throughout the room. And in the back there where four pool tables on a raise portion of the room.
As you walked into the establishment, to your left was the bar. Behind the bar you could usually find either Marly or Jesse Markley, his stocky bombshell of a waitress. It was from behind this long counter you would find the many liquors, micro-brews, beers, and ales. Behind the bar area was a kitchen, from which juicy steaks and burgers were served along with thick fries and green salads.
Marly looked up from the glasses he was drying and stacking behind the bar.
“Officer Wolvest, can I get you a drink?”
Wolvest scanned the interior until he caught a glimpse of a dark figure in the back corner.
“Yeah, give me one of your best micro’s.”
The fat old bartender scratched his balding scalp and glanced at the figure in the back of the bar.
“You here to see him?”
Josh Wolvest pushed aside a stray lock of dark brown hair and popped a few peanuts from a bowl on the counter in his mouth.
“Yeah. He been here long?”
Marly nodded, “Since about nine-thirty tonight.”
Wolvest glanced at the figure, “And its nearing midnight now. How much has he been drinking?”
The bartender poured Josh’s drink and slid it across to him.
“A lot. Enough to kill a normal person, and even a werewolf would be staggering by now.”
The off-duty cop closed his bright-green eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Okay.”
Marly eyed the figure again, “You gonna talk to him? I was supposed to close up shop at eleven-thirty.”
Josh looked at the bartender, “Why haven’t you said anything to him?”
“I have met Vampires, cops, mercenaries, assassins, Werewolves, and many other unsavory and violent characters. They scare me, sure. But the look on his face, the steel in his voice when he came in here tonight, it terrifies me.”
Josh gazed at the hardy older man. Not much phased Marly, and for the dark figure to inspire that much fear in the man said a lot.
“I’ll talk with him. Put whatever he has had on my tab”
Wolvest left payment on the countertop and, picking up his drink, crossed the bar’s floor the where the figure sat, shrouded in darkness.
“Nick, how is life?”
Nick Shadow, Vampire half-breed and hunter of mythical monsters, looked up with smoldering eyes.
“Josh, life is hell.”
Josh sat down across the table from Nick and looked with amazement at the collection of bottles on the table in front of the Hunter.
“That’s… that’s a lot of alcohol.”
Nick laughed harshly, “Heh, Not enough. It’s never enough.”
Josh nodded, “Want to tell me what the occasion is?”
Nick remained silent for a moment, then his voice whispered across the table to the other man.
“I saw Susan tonight.”
Josh’s eye’s widened, “Oh… like, “see her” see her or…”
The Hunter shook his head, “From a distance.”
Wolvest set his drink on the table among Nick’s glasses and bottles.
“How did she look?”
Nick smiled, and his usually emotionless face almost managed to convey sadness.
“She looked good… She was beautiful.”
The Hunter’s smile suddenly turned nasty, his fangs glinted evilly from behind his lips and his eyes narrowed to two gleaming red pinpricks. Even his hair seemed to rise slightly, adding to the unnatural rage that welled up from the once-human’s unbeating heart.
“Life! Life is such a bad joke! It allows you to remain a hair’s breadth from everything that makes this existence worthwhile, but at the same time prevents you from touching it! Do you know, I can’t become drunk or even intoxicated? I can’t die, even by my own hand, and believe me I have tried!”
Josh looked down, unsure what to say to the half-dead. Finally, he looked up into the Hunter’s raging face.
“Nick, I can’t begin to understand what it feels like. You know I lost my father in a gang-related shooting when I was young. And my mother died before that of cancer. I only know loss; I only know what it is like to have to do without something you can’t see anymore.
But what I have learned is that what we lose makes us what we are just as much as what we have. Because of my father’s death and my search for vengeance, I took a path that led me to here. I became a cop, took on my dad’s old job, and made it so much more than he even dreamed of.”
Nick snarled quietly, but let Josh continue.
“You were a cop as well before the Vampire tried to turn you. Yes, you may have lost your life, but you gained a life at the same time. You have saved so many people since then, people who may have died had you not been attacked by Proteous. I know it hurts to look back at your old life and see what you lost. But you can’t dwell on it, it will tear you apart. Please, remember that. The past is the past for a reason, you cannot always be looking to it if you wish to move into the future.”
Josh threw back the rest of his drink before getting to his feet.
“There is nothing more I can say. I paid for your tab, now the only thing I can ask is that if you still feel the need to feel sorry for yourself, you go somewhere else to do it. Marly needs to close up.”
Nick’s features had settled back into their normal impassiveness.
“Josh…”
Josh Wolvest turned to look at the Hunter, “Yes?”
A sharp canine fang was revealed in the Half-breed’s smile.
“Thank you.”
Josh simply nodded and, exchanging glances with Joe Marly on his way out, left the bar.
Nick rose to his feet a few moments later and also exited the bar. He stood outside the door for a minute, staring at the crescent moon in the sky.
Josh was right, Nick’s past was just that, his past. And while he could miss all he wanted, he could never get it back.
Besides, Nick Malcolm, Atlantia beat-cop, husband and father, was dead. Only Nick Shadow, Vampire Half-breed, protector of mortals and hunter of monsters remained.
"Shadows of the Past"
Shadows of The Past
“Shadows: Stories of a Hunter”, Part Six
The wind whistled through the tall buildings with a loud shriek. Above the rooftops of Atlantia, the moon glowed a pale color, its silver light a stark contrast to the black shadows.
Inside the shops down along the street, employees and owners locked the doors and pulled covers over the windows. Then, after gazing into the deepening darkness for a moment, they left the safety of their shop fronts to venture into the night.
Through the windows of homes and apartments you could see people and families preparing to turn in for the night. People returning home from late-night work shifts sat at their dining room tables and in their kitchenettes, eating their dinners. Men and women sat before their televisions, watching their late-night soap-operas and crime shows. Young women on the upper floors changed in front of their windows, unconscious of who might be watching and exposing themselves in all their striking beauty.
Mothers and fathers tucked their kids in their beds and turned out the lights. As the parents left the rooms, the children pulled the covers up tight and stared wide-eyed into the darkness.
One mother in particular, after switching on her baby girl’s nightlight and softly shutting the door, went to stare out of her fourth-floor window into the pale heavenly crescent.
Her gaze was sad, lonely, and wistful. A question was permanently stamped across her features; a question that would never be answered.
A sudden prickling of her spine caused her to bring her eyes to earth and peer into the darkness of the buildings around her. Seeing no one, she turned away from the window. She glanced over her shoulder once more before disappearing into the darkness of her apartment.
Across the street a dark figure stepped away from the building to stand on the brink of the fourth-story ledge. Dark jeans, black t-shirt and leather jacket, and with dark hair, his very persona seemed to blend into the darkness around him.
His eyes, however, shown from under his lids with a literally burning intensity. The two smoldering orbs followed the woman as she faded into the shadows of her own room, then further, making use of an unnatural night vision.
The face remained impassive, and though the eyes appeared emotionless, they carried more than their weight in emotion. The man’s glowing eyes stared out, mirroring the woman’s pain and loneliness. The answer to her question was locked somewhere in the man’s hollow stare.
“Who is she?”
The man looked to where an amber-haired woman had come to stand next to him.
“Amelia.”
The woman’s violet eyes flashed seductively. She was around five-feet tall and her body was toned in a way only years of physical activity could bring about.
“Aye, it’s me. Been a long time, ye ken. How long, ye think, Nick?”
Nick Shadow didn’t take his eyes off the window across the way from them.
“Since Scotland? I don’t know. Time does not interest me like it does you.”
Amelia raised a lip, revealing her sharp wolf’s teeth in a grin.
“Aye, bein’ nigh immortal, makes sense. Now answer ‘me question, who is she?”
“She is… was, my wife.”
The woman’s eyebrow shot up and she looked at Nick in surprise.
“Ah’ didn’t ken ye had a wife.”
“I don’t.”
Amelia used a claw-like fingernail to scratch her scalp in confusion.
“Ah’ donna… Wait... ye mean from before?”
Nick nodded slowly, “Yes. Before.”
“Ah’m sorry, Nick. Ah’ did’nae ken, ne’er even suspected… All that time huntin’ the bloodsuckers in Scotland, ye ne’er even implied…”
The Vampire hunter grunted dismissively, “No, I did not.”
“You don’t wanna talk about her.”
“No. I don’t.”
The Werewolf looked at Nick, the confusion growing.
“Why?”
The glowing eyes of the Hunter blinked twice, as if to blink back invisible tears.
“When I was bitten by the Vampire and made into the Half-breed I am now, what seems like forever ago, I lost much. I lost my humanity, I lost my connections with the world of the living, and I lost whatever life I had. But of everything I lost, it is my family I miss the most. But I cannot go back to them, not as I am now. I can no longer love, I can only regret the loss of love.”
Amelia reached out and put her hand on his shoulder, “Ah’m so sorry, Nick. Ah’ve ne’er had a family, Ah’ve never felt that kind of loss before.”
The Half-breed glanced at her, “Be glad of that. There is no greater pain.”
“Ah ken this. But ye can’t let the pain make you what you are.”
Nick laughed harshly, “No, it does not make me what I am. I am a Vampire/Human Half-breed, I am death to those who are evil, a protector to those who are not. I am a creature of the shadows, of the darkness. I am Nick Shadow, nothing more, nothing less.”
With that, Nick stepped off the ledge and dropped to the street far below them. He landed in a crouch and, rising to his feet, strode off to disappear into the night.
Amelia remained, though, and sat on the ledge for a time. She watched the window of the woman who had once been the wife of the man who used to be Nick Shadow. And she wondered, how either of them lived after such a deep and profound loss.
“Shadows: Stories of a Hunter”, Part Six
The wind whistled through the tall buildings with a loud shriek. Above the rooftops of Atlantia, the moon glowed a pale color, its silver light a stark contrast to the black shadows.
Inside the shops down along the street, employees and owners locked the doors and pulled covers over the windows. Then, after gazing into the deepening darkness for a moment, they left the safety of their shop fronts to venture into the night.
Through the windows of homes and apartments you could see people and families preparing to turn in for the night. People returning home from late-night work shifts sat at their dining room tables and in their kitchenettes, eating their dinners. Men and women sat before their televisions, watching their late-night soap-operas and crime shows. Young women on the upper floors changed in front of their windows, unconscious of who might be watching and exposing themselves in all their striking beauty.
Mothers and fathers tucked their kids in their beds and turned out the lights. As the parents left the rooms, the children pulled the covers up tight and stared wide-eyed into the darkness.
One mother in particular, after switching on her baby girl’s nightlight and softly shutting the door, went to stare out of her fourth-floor window into the pale heavenly crescent.
Her gaze was sad, lonely, and wistful. A question was permanently stamped across her features; a question that would never be answered.
A sudden prickling of her spine caused her to bring her eyes to earth and peer into the darkness of the buildings around her. Seeing no one, she turned away from the window. She glanced over her shoulder once more before disappearing into the darkness of her apartment.
Across the street a dark figure stepped away from the building to stand on the brink of the fourth-story ledge. Dark jeans, black t-shirt and leather jacket, and with dark hair, his very persona seemed to blend into the darkness around him.
His eyes, however, shown from under his lids with a literally burning intensity. The two smoldering orbs followed the woman as she faded into the shadows of her own room, then further, making use of an unnatural night vision.
The face remained impassive, and though the eyes appeared emotionless, they carried more than their weight in emotion. The man’s glowing eyes stared out, mirroring the woman’s pain and loneliness. The answer to her question was locked somewhere in the man’s hollow stare.
“Who is she?”
The man looked to where an amber-haired woman had come to stand next to him.
“Amelia.”
The woman’s violet eyes flashed seductively. She was around five-feet tall and her body was toned in a way only years of physical activity could bring about.
“Aye, it’s me. Been a long time, ye ken. How long, ye think, Nick?”
Nick Shadow didn’t take his eyes off the window across the way from them.
“Since Scotland? I don’t know. Time does not interest me like it does you.”
Amelia raised a lip, revealing her sharp wolf’s teeth in a grin.
“Aye, bein’ nigh immortal, makes sense. Now answer ‘me question, who is she?”
“She is… was, my wife.”
The woman’s eyebrow shot up and she looked at Nick in surprise.
“Ah’ didn’t ken ye had a wife.”
“I don’t.”
Amelia used a claw-like fingernail to scratch her scalp in confusion.
“Ah’ donna… Wait... ye mean from before?”
Nick nodded slowly, “Yes. Before.”
“Ah’m sorry, Nick. Ah’ did’nae ken, ne’er even suspected… All that time huntin’ the bloodsuckers in Scotland, ye ne’er even implied…”
The Vampire hunter grunted dismissively, “No, I did not.”
“You don’t wanna talk about her.”
“No. I don’t.”
The Werewolf looked at Nick, the confusion growing.
“Why?”
The glowing eyes of the Hunter blinked twice, as if to blink back invisible tears.
“When I was bitten by the Vampire and made into the Half-breed I am now, what seems like forever ago, I lost much. I lost my humanity, I lost my connections with the world of the living, and I lost whatever life I had. But of everything I lost, it is my family I miss the most. But I cannot go back to them, not as I am now. I can no longer love, I can only regret the loss of love.”
Amelia reached out and put her hand on his shoulder, “Ah’m so sorry, Nick. Ah’ve ne’er had a family, Ah’ve never felt that kind of loss before.”
The Half-breed glanced at her, “Be glad of that. There is no greater pain.”
“Ah ken this. But ye can’t let the pain make you what you are.”
Nick laughed harshly, “No, it does not make me what I am. I am a Vampire/Human Half-breed, I am death to those who are evil, a protector to those who are not. I am a creature of the shadows, of the darkness. I am Nick Shadow, nothing more, nothing less.”
With that, Nick stepped off the ledge and dropped to the street far below them. He landed in a crouch and, rising to his feet, strode off to disappear into the night.
Amelia remained, though, and sat on the ledge for a time. She watched the window of the woman who had once been the wife of the man who used to be Nick Shadow. And she wondered, how either of them lived after such a deep and profound loss.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
