valified defi

can you make money by making soap

datatime: 2022-09-25 12:27:13 Author:UwpseZxH

Then he twisted the knob and pushed the door inward. Matt was at his shoulder, and he was holding Eva's crucifix tightly.

'There's a dead man upstairs,' he said.

'No, I guess not. I'd stick it in the top of my pants and blow my balls off.'

'Sure,' Ben said, and slipped the crucifix over Matt's neck.

Ben had taken the crucifix off; now he poked at the glimmering heap of fine-link chain with a reflective finger. It was almost five o'clock and the eastern sky was rose with dawn. The fluorescent bar overhead had gone pallid.

'It actually does make me feel better.' He laughed self-consciously. 'Do you suppose they'll let me wear it when they cart me off to Augusta?'

'It actually does make me feel better.' He laughed self-consciously. 'Do you suppose they'll let me wear it when they cart me off to Augusta?'

'Tell me. And stop playing with that thing. Is it loaded?' Matt put the pistol down and ran a hand through his hair. 'Yes, it's loaded. Although I don't think it would do any good . . . unless I used it on myself.' He laughed, a jagged, unhealthy sound like grinding glass.

You open the door and he's hanging from the beam, the face swelled and puffed and black, and then the eyes open and they're bulging in the sockets but they're SEEING you and they're glad you came -

'And maybe I dreamed the whole thing, but thank God you're here.' He had picked up the revolver and was turning it over restively in his hands.

'Mike Ryerson. He works for the town. He's a grounds keeper.'

'And maybe I dreamed the whole thing, but thank God you're here.' He had picked up the revolver and was turning it over restively in his hands.

The memory rose up in -almost total sensory reference, and for the moment of its totality he was paralyzed. He could even smell the plaster and the wild odor of nesting animals. It seemed to him that the plain varnished wood door of Matt Burke's guest room stood between him and all the secrets of hell.

'Matt, you're not talking good sense.'

Ben said, 'Do you want the gun?'

'And maybe I dreamed the whole thing, but thank God you're here.' He had picked up the revolver and was turning it over restively in his hands.

'It actually does make me feel better.' He laughed self-consciously. 'Do you suppose they'll let me wear it when they cart me off to Augusta?'

'Mike buried him. And Mike found Win Purinton's dog impaled on the Harmony Hill Cemetery gates. I met Mike Ryerson in Dell's last night, and-'

Ben said, 'Do you want the gun?'

'It actually does make me feel better.' He laughed self-consciously. 'Do you suppose they'll let me wear it when they cart me off to Augusta?'

They went upstairs, Ben in the lead. There was a short hall at the top, running both ways. At one end, the door to Matt's bedroom stood open, a pale sheaf of lamplight spilling out onto the orange runner.

'Tell me. And stop playing with that thing. Is it loaded?' Matt put the pistol down and ran a hand through his hair. 'Yes, it's loaded. Although I don't think it would do any good . . . unless I used it on myself.' He laughed, a jagged, unhealthy sound like grinding glass.

The harshness in his voice broke the queer, fixed look in his eyes. He shook his head, not like a man propounding a negative, but the way some animals will shake themselves coming out of cold water.

'And maybe I dreamed the whole thing, but thank God you're here.' He had picked up the revolver and was turning it over restively in his hands.

'-and I couldn't go in,' he finished. Couldn't. I sat on my bed for nearly four hours. Then I crept downstairs like a thief and called you. What do you think?'

FeedBack
Copyright © 2022 Chrales (United States) All rights reserved. The information contained in Chrales (United States) may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed without the prior written authority of Chrales (United States)