lonely stands amid the hushed slurs of late harvest branches and the fading cries of field hounds

the ranker and weedier thickets about the mist shaded brooks out in that last parade of the outlaw Harry Tracy

You let me down champ. But this’ll help with your busted skull. He held out the possum gnawed, foul smelling leather kit. You’ve got to look inside first– he motions like a stadium usher who’d found a new seat. Carson stepped forward to peer down at what the bag holds.

Brief shiver, the clack of ink-stained circuits, frying membranes and segmented limbs picked off shorts in the carrier apparatus with ‘droit pace.

Get rid of it… Trust me! he ducks, looking at the road, he curses softly to himself as a silver haired bicyclist whirred by on an aero frame. That’s the tracer, he’ll have a tester for the ambient skin tone, our pulse is monitored for changes! No you coot its Tracy…He’s too good at racin’ customs Henry. He’d smoke us without touching metal.

Hey cal…don’t switch a piece just yet.. Carson stepped across the bike’s frame and fought for the grip like a miner trying to grasp a falling hammer on a fairground. His forearm and wrist pinched like a bear vice left in a corn fire. The hold on the high-rise dwelling farmer stayed.

Why don’t you tell me what this has to do with the kid back there?

We don’t socialize much he rasped the salt flecked mustache above his large lipped mouth not joining the rattling shake that drove through every joint in his rangy limbs.
he nodded to no one in particular/

 

Get rid of it… Trust me! he ducks, looking at the road, he curses softly to himself as a blaze of dark hair and roaring pistons welded to his legs like Berlin gymnasts. That’s the tracer, he’ll have a tester for the Pulse Ruby of The Gods, our very pores is monitored for changes, // ya let’s fade away from here.


The dark theatre heaved with the groans of couples and the sharper image of premier doms in the audience. The lower aisles were prowled by a menagerie of predators and this caused a sort of prehensile frenzy when they applied razors and the pocket skills of a tailor. The picture booth where the images to be displayed on the canvas screen were wriggling with glow eels that swam in a translucent tank in front of the lantern– acting as a pisha show where the goal was to push a bishop into the Sink Well of Madness without using any hands.

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