vanhoudj@bsdvt.org

Tim Hardey checked his watch, it was 11:58pm. It had been three hours since the car crash. He could still remember his parents’ voices.

“George, slow down! You’re going to kill us!”

She was beautiful, but in a different sort of way.

Her skin was an awful green, and her hair didn’t sway.

If she was in a fairy tale, even Shrek would stay away.

She had a make-you-faint smell, like a bodies decay.