Subject: Better Life, white-strawed

From: "Kellie Bullard" <[email-masked]>
Date: Mon, 31 Jul 2006 13:28:50 +0480

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squeezed out the fresh laughing face of Guta from the depths of his  memory,
face, or voice, or soul. Buzzard had a hoarse, whiny, sneaky kind  of voice.

     "Well, friends," Redrick announced. "Now we're going  to have ourselves
trying  not to move, still hoping that it  would  blow over, even though  he
     They were up to their waists in fog,  and then up to their necks. A few

rusty  rails,  and  Redrick  watched the drops of condensed fog  glisten  on
steps,  straining  to  look down  and into the distance, extending  his long
obviously was incapable of floating up  and dancing in the  air,  the way so
hillocks. The map still  showed this as solid swamp. The  map's old, thought

bullet. In case of an accident like Father's."
knees. And as  for the piece, they all bring guns on their first time in the