The motel wasn’t highbrow enough to be considered fleabag; even the most infinitesimal of bloodsuckers were more discerning with their taste in lowlifes than the clientele of this shit stain in the middle of hillbilly Timbuktu.
[Image by Raniel Diaz]
Most of them had looked forward longingly to the cheerfully bitter brew that now, as Fulholme himself was fond of saying, “tamed the long thirst” with the exception of Optiminius the Teetotaler, who was loathe to give up his long-coveted and recently earned nickname for even a few scant drops of what his order deemed to be “demon spittle.”
[Photo by Patrick Fore]
Donald spoke m-dip fluently (and, like untold others, secretly), but he found himself wishing, at that moment, that he didn’t.
[Photo by the_matt]
I will get rich on the overwhelming evidence of the sea’s indifference to human suffering.
[Photo above by Keith Marshall]
I’m speckled full of freckles and I’m reckless as a jackal. Jeepers!
[Image by NASA’s Marshall Space Flight Center]
Easy Hell to be taken, like a pill that sickens you.
[Photo by Craig Sunter]
The train had its course set in advance by blueprints and the magical doodlings of architects, engineers, and the muscle power of over a thousand immigrants transplanted here from every corner of the globe.
[Image by Marjon Kruik]
Now and forever. Never and all’s ever.
[Photo by Allie Caulfield]
He began to repeat himself, but I put my hand up to let him know that, yes, I had heard him the first time.
[Photo by Nathan Guy]
This odd superpower only revealed itself to me. Attempts at confirming its validity with other observers were to no avail.
[Photo by Matt Corey]