Once a cherished possession, the porcelain doll now harbored a malevolent spirit. Its glassy eyes watched, its haunting laughter echoed through the night. Whispers of curses surrounded its existence, leaving those who crossed its path in a state of perpetual fear.
Tuesday, October 9th, 2012
“May I speak to Anton Heft, please,” requested the professional voice over the phone. Anton was finishing up another roof for Steve when the phone rang. He was in a filthy pair of ripped-up blue jeans that looked as though they’d been through several years worth of roof jobs. His filthy tank top was rolled and tied around his forehead like Jim McMahon’s headband. The combination of the dirt, humidity and roof tar smeared various shades of black and gray all over his body and clothes.
By Anton Mathias Heft 6 days ago in Fiction
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