Julius Whitfield
Stories (3/0)
Pallid Airs and Lost Highways
Connie’s hands gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles were blinding white. The way her fingers ran to firmly caress you’d think she was looking to break it in half as her unblinking eyes stared hard at the dark road ahead.
By Julius Whitfield2 years ago in Futurism
Pallid Airs and Lost Highways
Ellsworth and Emery Kolb were in their twenties when they opened their own photography studio high in the South Rim of the Grand Canyon in 1904. Not too shabby for a business that didn’t result in putting a bullet in someone’s head back then. Robbing, killing and pillaging were all financially beneficial parts of the region and the Kolb brothers were as gentle as cloud fluff and had no means for such sketchy vices. Truth was, there had been only one gun in between them should their venture exploring the Colorado River leave them in any danger and that cold pistol remained cold for several years after it was bestowed upon them by their father.
By Julius Whitfield2 years ago in Horror
Pallid Airs and Lost Highways
It wasn’t customary to have the Sheriff’s office as busy as it was that Wednesday evening, at best it was usually the man himself with a few drop-ins of his deputy and a few drunks they kept in a cell overnight, but these were hard times and in these hard times something needed to be done, a change needed to occur in the Northeast and in New England. It was just that none of the men of the law knew the edge of the world started in Newcomb, New York in the office of Sheriff Bruce Hemmitt.
By Julius Whitfield2 years ago in Horror
