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The old drugs didn’t do it anymore; they couldn‘t take her home.

She needed The King and not her syringe or a roach clip.

He’d only come when she entertained a client in a road side motel or at a truck stop while wearing her waning yellow stilettos. Then he’d appear, under the black stars and strange moons of an unearthly sky.

And then she could see. Through cold bleeding tears she could see that which she couldn‘t before: dimming twin suns sinking into a misty lake on whose shore stood The King’s black domed city and her future home.

8 comments add one below

  • avatar

    Chris Walker almost 5 years ago

    That's a great piece right there. Very evocative.

  • avatar

    Horrorshow almost 5 years ago

    Thanks for the positive feedback, Chris. :-)

  • avatar

    Drew Martyn almost 5 years ago

    Superbly atmospheric H. I really liked the pain captured in "cold bleeding tears"

  • avatar

    Horrorshow almost 5 years ago

    Thank you for reading and commenting, Drew. :-)

  • avatar

    Brandon Sutton almost 5 years ago

    An extremely emotional story that sounds grand even though its subject is anything but that (even though it might seem that way to people at the time). Very nicely done!

  • avatar

    Horrorshow almost 5 years ago

    Great to get your thoughts, Brandon; thank you. :-)

  • avatar

    Bryan Thomas almost 5 years ago

    Very good.

  • avatar

    Horrorshow almost 5 years ago

    Cheers, Bryan. :-)

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