At the turn of the 20th century the Leben brothers, though in their corporate infancy, had already begun down the enchanting road of profit. Their first modicum of success had swelled from a mine not far from the industrial district in which they resided. A little hill in the near distance with twenty or so workers producing enough to warrant a weekly train visit from the district.
Category: Writing
My Name is Despair
If there were any words which could supply the answer as to why, they never came. The only thing that came, and seldom at that, was the man on the opposite side of the door. But never did he divulge an answer as to why.
In the Flesh
He woke and saw for himself a different place than any he’d ever known. Knew it not to be of the world he’d known before but recognized it to be the world he now had. For the rest of time.
Worlds of the mind 