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She could have walked away.
Just stood up and walked away, but she didn't. Mrs Allen, fifteen years into a sentence as a junior high school teacher, had seen japes and shenanigans before.
This time, seven on one, surrounding the boy, shouting and jeering, pushing and shoving, calling hi(more)
I hear him outside the door again. A plaintive whining. I'll leave the desk and let him in again, and he'll stalk the room, a true house tiger seeking imaginary prey. If I have the time or the inclination, I'll send him chasing the red dot again, or maybe(more)
Down on the killing floor, they called it processing. The panicked fresh ones would come stumbling blindly in, bowels loosening in a feverish inhalation of blood and fear. Burly arms would clamp their neck in a brace, a moment's resistance and then bang.
Lights out. (more)
The old man would sit and tell us how the soldiers on horses would ride by when he was younger.
He talked about the creak of oiled leather harness and the shine of burnished metal, the snorting stamping prideful horses, the smell of sweat and dust and dung. (more)