S.B. strickland

S.B. strickland

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  • S.B. strickland
    Published 23 days ago
    Marked

    Marked

    when a human is born, it is said that two names appear on the skin of the child. They say that these names are unique to every person, and that no two are the same. One is the name of the person that you are meant to be with, the other is the one that will end your life. So, when one, Miss Nimue Leastrange was born everyone thought it was strange that she only had one name. throughout her life she would look at the name in wonder, even would trace it with her finger when she would go deep into thought. which is exactly what she was doing as she sat in front of the large window in the living room of her flat, watching the rain fall. Her mind wondered though from thought to thought, like the earliest memories of her looking at the name that marked her inner left thigh to the time she was able to speak the name on her skin.
  • S.B. strickland
    Published about a month ago
    A Monsters Manual

    A Monsters Manual

    It feels as though it has been a thousand years, though in reality it has to have been only one year since the great lighting. After a fruitless night of sleep, one filled with the likes of flashing lights and screams of the damned, I awake with a start. And …. I can see …. can clearly see the window, the warm sunlight peering through in rays of different colors. For so long, I have seen nothing, just the blackness, a void. And suddenly I awake to the most beautiful arrays of colors. Grunting, I get up slowly stretching as I do. I turn around and am shocked. I can see that I am in what looks to be a dirty padded room that what once was probably a white room, well what use to be the white room. As it is completely covered in what looks to be blood smears. All four walls, the floor, hell even the ceiling are covered.
  • S.B. strickland
    Published about a month ago
    The Job

    The Job

    Eight months, one week, four days, three hours, fifty-four minutes, and twenty-four seconds. That is how long it has been since the last job. Eight wonderful, peaceful months. Each day just as calm and quit as the last. My daily routine was simply really. 4:30 am, wake up. Run five miles, come back to the apartment, have breakfast. At 7 am go for a shower, arrive at the local coffee shop at 9 am. Enjoy two cups of coffee, read local Paper. At 12 noon, order lunch, the local favorite of grilled ham and cheese with buttered bread, and a third cup of coffee, eat. Take a nice stroll through the local running trails. At one point in time the hidden bodies would bother me, but they only calm my nerves now as I walk. And be back at the at the apartment by 3 pm. Prepared dinner, simple meat and veggie side dish. Clean all dishes. Clean the whole apartment from top to bottom. Take a shower and be in bed by 8 pm. Nothing every change. That is until today, upon getting home, a figure covered from head to toe in black tactical gear is waiting. I take a second to scan the area, as I grab the nearby vase and smash it into the intruder’s head. They draw a knife; I grab their wrist and use my elbow to snap their arm. Using my free hand, I catch the knife. Using all my strength I shove it into the left side of the attacker’s head. the Lifeless body now hits the floor. Opening my coat closet I pull out my silenced cult 45 and check the rest of the apartment. As I clear it the landline rings. Upon picking it up and placing it up to my ear, the snappy voice on the other end stated one thing, “we need you again, Silverstone.” And the line goes dead. I sigh heavily and set to work, five minutes later I head out. As I make my way north two blocks, an explosion can be heard. I turn back to glance and see the apartment complex has caught fire, I grin and head forward to the next job.