to hell with this

I got stuck in traffic near the gates of hell, now covered in scaffolding, and there was a sign tied to a pole, flapping in the wind: “Open During Remodeling.” But no one was walking in. So the rumors were true, after all. People weren’t feeling as sorry for themselves as before.


I write

fiction, mostly

And I’m seeking literary representation for my urban fantasy novel, people without names. The story you just read first appeared here.

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