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West 565 He thought about her again that night. As the speedometer edged towards 95, that was all he could think about on this desolate stretch of highway. Nights like this always brought back memories. He remembered the cool air, the moonlight illuminating the twisted hunk of metal that was formerly two seperate cars. He remembered seeing her golden hair, not splattered with blood. The blood used to circulate her veins, bringing oxygen and nutrician to her cells, thus allowing her to live, but now served no purpose except to add color to the chaotic scene. He said only three words that night. 'It's my fault.' And it was, he knew, but he also knew thaWest 565 by ~thom117
They never change. James Thurgood bolted upright in bed, shaking with cold sweat. The dreams were getting more realistic, last night, he felt the bullet enter his head, but it hadn't hurt. After he had died, he knew where he was, but that was no mystery. He knew where he was going. He looked at his clock. 5:50. He figured that he might as well get up for work, he didn't have anything better to do. That was the good thing about running your own business, you get to choose when you want to work. With his line of work, though, the job changed with what time it was. During the day it was businesses he was dealing with, at night it was individuals. He was going toThey never change. by ~thom117
Sta.sh
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What is a 100% chance of getting a fifty-fifty chance at getting 50%?
Hope to watch your artwork soon!
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