Steve Wacksman
The Defense Of Hamsteak Acres
It All Happened So Fast
I was powerless against them. Those scents inflamed my curiosity; aroused my blackest passions. The breeze would swell, carrying with it gentle hints of duct tape, sweat on leather, tobacco, whiskey and cotton candy.

Time stopped then; the currents carried me and I was reduced to a simple vessel of simple desire. My legs propelled me forth in time to the rhythmic beating of her cashmere wings. Drinking deeply, surrendering my will, diving into the monsters maw.

After a time the darkness parted. The bruises bloomed, the fireworks fizzled, the credits rolled and there was naught but me.

Me, alone with the lingering smell of wormwood and hellfire teasing my sinuses. Me, alone with the diamonds and broken glass crunching under my heavy boots.

Me, lost once again in the long shadows of Hamsteak Acres' less savory parcels.
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