Featured Fiction
The Street
The job market was so dried up, you could only hope and pray for some shitty, part-time shiftwork underneath some dilapidated footbridge. The days of getting a comfy, monster-under-the-bed type job were long gone. Holding out for your own closet to scare out of? Hah! What are you smoking?
The market bubble had gone bust, and every night, the streets in my neighbourhood were getting worse; monsters were slinking in every shadowy alleyway, cracked out and strung out and begging for your last dime.
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