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It was no great surprise that she'd put herself up for sale. I remembered the black rose bruises, the alcohol, the shadowy, absent step-father. I recalled the night we prowled the hood as two hungry spirits, hoping for sweets and receiving a cultural gap, misunderstanding. I thought also of poor Jack, unable to break into either heaven or hell, doomed to walk the earth for thousands of years while waiting for his Judgement Day, unable to find his way home.
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Halloween in the Antipodes 13 |
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Magazine / Web Design by Sharon Berg
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