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	<title>Shadowscope&#039;s Sick Crimes &#187; Fiction</title>
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	<link>http://www.sickcrimes.us</link>
	<description>All Crime....All the Time</description>
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		<title>Let the Blood Rain Down Upon My Head</title>
		<link>http://www.sickcrimes.us/2007/05/let-the-blood-rain-down-upon-my-head-2483</link>
		<comments>http://www.sickcrimes.us/2007/05/let-the-blood-rain-down-upon-my-head-2483#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Wed, 02 May 2007 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate>
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				<category><![CDATA[Fiction]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[&#8230;He reveled in the way the blood was still running down her warm body. At first it had gushed out in a torrent of warm red rain, but now it was coming our more slowly. She had struggled for awhile and he had to hold her tight as he slid the hunting knife across her [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>&#8230;He reveled in the way the blood was still running down her warm body. At first it had gushed out in a torrent of warm red rain, but now it was coming our more slowly. She had struggled for awhile and he had to hold her tight as he slid the hunting knife across her throat just under her Adam&#8217;s apple, but she relaxed under his caring grip and was reclining on his lap as a lover. He grew excited as the warmth seeped into his clothing. He had to wait for that. Not here. Save it for later when he could relive it over and over again.</p>
<p>Technology was a wonderful thing. It was amazing what you could do with wireless cameras and a laptop these days. He would be able to watch it again anytime he wanted. First he had to get cleaned up and get out without being seen. Then he could take care of the video at his leisure&#8230;</p>
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		<title>The killer awoke&#8230;</title>
		<link>http://www.sickcrimes.us/2006/12/the-killer-awoke-2644</link>
		<comments>http://www.sickcrimes.us/2006/12/the-killer-awoke-2644#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Mon, 01 Jan 2007 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Fiction]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[His thoughts were scattered and he struggled to get them under control. Control was the order of the day and the only way he could manage to navigate around the inferiors that scurried around and made his life miserable. Sleep was the only escape from them; the sleep of the dead. He did not dream, [...]]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>His thoughts were scattered and he struggled to get them under control. Control was the order of the day and the only way he could manage to navigate around the inferiors that scurried around and made his life miserable. Sleep was the only escape from them; the sleep of the dead. He did not dream, for every waking moment in his life was a dream. The only relief from this waking dream was the brief respite he gained when he released one of them from their pitiful lives.</p>
<p>He was excited when he thought about the coming evening. He had been watching one in particular for several days, keeping tabs on her schedule. Her comings and goings were pitifully routine. He knew when she would be driving into the garage on any given night dressed in her flimsy clothing from the night out on the town. She was a slut. Mother would certainly never have approved of him being around her and it would brighten the world to remove her from it.</p>
<p>To be continued&#8230;Maybe</p>
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		<title>Progress &#8211; Fiction</title>
		<link>http://www.sickcrimes.us/2004/03/progress-fiction-2712</link>
		<comments>http://www.sickcrimes.us/2004/03/progress-fiction-2712#comments</comments>
		<pubDate>Tue, 16 Mar 2004 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate>
		<dc:creator>admin</dc:creator>
				<category><![CDATA[Fiction]]></category>

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		<description><![CDATA[She came out of her deep sleep very slowly. It seemed to take ages. She stretched and yawned, shook the sleep out of her bones. She pawed her hooves on the rock floor of her cave, gave a whinny...
]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[<p>She came out of her deep sleep very slowly. It seemed to take ages. She stretched and yawned, shook the sleep out of her bones. She pawed her hooves on the rock floor of her cave, gave a whinny as if to call the others. She looked around the dark cave trying to see if anyone had been there. Her silver horn gave off enough light to just see the walls around her. No one had disturbed her with their presence in hundreds of her years. </p>
<p>Then she recalled what had prompted the deep sleep in the first place. She was the last of her kind. She had hidden herself away in the cave deep within the ancient forest until a better time came, when she could emerge, and possibly find another to help her make a child. What then had awoken her from the deep slumber? Perhaps the time had come to look around. Things could have changed. Maybe the humans were gone now, or had become less warlike, with their fierce swords and bows, clubs and fire.</p>
<p> She walked for a long time, picking her way through the rocks and debris in the anciant cavern. Streaks of gold in the walls glittered back as they picked up the light from her horn. At some point she crossed a small underground stream, stopping for a long draught. Little sightless fish scattered as she dipped her head. She lifted her head as she felt a breeze in her mane. Close to the surface now.</p>
<p> She galloped quickly as the cave widened out, became less sloped. She started to see a bit out light up ahead. She could see the mouth of the cave. She slowed as she got closer. The smells were different. Bad. Diseased. As if something was dying. As she emerged from the cave she was shocked. Most of the ancient forest was gone. There were trees, mostly new growth, less than a hundred years old. She could see the river several leagues away, and long ribbons of rock through the forest. And the noise. It was deafening. In the sky, and in the ground. Everything vibrated with it. </p>
<p> She gingerly picked her way down the face of the mountain she had emerged from. She was having trouble hearing the forest with all of the distraction. She could not tell one smell from the other. She noticed that she was trembling from fear, and forced herself to stop. She went in the direction of the river. It was slow going, as she stopped every couple of minutes to lift her head and listen.</p>
<p> She emerged at the riverbank, and stooped to take a drink. A loud noise, as if from an avalache, startled her, and she felt a great pain in her side, then another in her head. She slowly toppled over, crying out. Blood ran out of the wounds. The light from her horn went out as it dissapeared from view. As she lay dying in the light of the afternoon sun, she decided that maybe things had not changed after all.</p>
</p>
<p>Footsteps crashed through the underbrush, Then stopped. &#8220;Goddammit&#8221;, said the human in the bright orange clothing, &#8220;I could have sworn it was a three-pointer. Just another fucking horse&#8221;.</p>
<p><span id="more-2712"></span></p>
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