Ramona had lived in the Fairdale Lodge for most of her fourteen years. She prided herself on meeting all the guests as they checked in.
So, when she stepped into the lobby, she was delighted to see Bobby, the hotel manager, with his mothy pork pie hat askew, handing room keys to two men
The Colt revolver’s song echoed through the barren terrain as gun smoke mixed with heavy snowfall. Marshal Roland Chadwick holstered his firearm, grimaced, and spat, watching bloody saliva crystalize and disappear into the white earth. The image reminded him of a disfigured candy cane. After all, it was Christmas Eve.
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I think maybe you’ve had enough, Sergeant Maxwell.” My partner’s eyebrow quirked as I slung back my second shot.
“You’ll wish you’d had two soon enough, rook.” The bitter aftertaste of a good espresso was always the best part of my day. In a world where coffee grants superpowers, it’s important to stay caffeinated.
“Nobody believes in evil anymore.” She sighed a long, laborious sigh.
I wanted to prove her wrong. I wanted to go right out and commit the most heinous act I could think of. But I couldn’t. Things just didn’t work that way anymore.
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