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Archive for the ‘Doom’s Daughter’ Category

“Many years before any of you were born, the world was filled with humans.” The bonfire crackles, and in its glow I survey the faces of the bright-eyed Kawitzen children, listening intently to Amelia’s story. Although the winter is mild on the west coast of North America’s 49th parallel, it still gets damp and chilly […]

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The man in the woollen cap raises his rifle. Knowing Father, he’s got the pistol in his duster pocket pointed at the guy. Mason is on the floor, still pleading silently with his stupid, snotty face. I’ve got my shotgun in my hands, hidden just out of sight. It’s not so much a Mexican standoff […]

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My urge to punch Mason fades, along with my urge to do anything else to him: kiss, admonish for breaking my CDs, teach to be less shitty. Instead I just feel a mild mixture of pity, revulsion and curiosity. How could someone so initially attractive be such a wussy jerk? I decide that there is […]

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“…guy?” I venture. The door has been left wide open, but our guest is nowhere to be seen. Thankfully, he didn’t steal any of my CDs. “What a jerk,” I mutter. “I told you we’d scare him off, dad.” “Did he steal something?” Dad asks anxiously as he rapidly takes a visual stock of the […]

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Father and I have thirty-seven rehearsed contingency plans, everything ranging from wild dog attacks to flash floods to the (extremely) unlikely event that some psycho somewhere found out how to launch and detonate a nuclear missile. Noise outside the RV is something we’ve had to deal with before; nine times out of ten it’s animals […]

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