lesserdark (Jaundiced Eyes, Part 2)

By Shane Ivey, (c) 1998 “‘How am I doing,’ he says.” Officer John Vitelle, hefty and dark, chuckled derisively and tossed a newspaper to the floorboards. “What,” said his partner, a thin balding man named Douglas Nee, turning the wheel of their squa
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Blacker than Black (Jaundiced Eyes, Part 1)

By Shane Ivey, (c) 1998 Panama, 1986. A soft wind rustled through jungle leaves. The night was clear but moonless and black with swirling mists, and all the stars were dark past a fog-obscured canopy of trees. The air was close and humid and hot. Unseen bat wings flapped, dry and leat
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Report #3270

By Shane Ivey, ©1998. DATE: 3 April 1998 AGENTS: Osborne SUMMARY: Operation SANDMAN, involving possible government involvement in occult activity in Queens, New York. CASE STATUS: Open Toxicology reports from recent arrests and deaths in the Harfleur region of Queens, New York indicat
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Report #3270 (Addendum)

By Shane Ivey, ©1998. DATE: 4 June 1998 AGENTS: Osborne SUMMARY: A memorandum from Case Officer Osborne to Cell A regarding the progress of Operation SANDMAN. CASE STATUS: Open To:            Cell A From:          Osborne Subject:       Operation SANDMAN Date:          04 JUNE 1998 Op
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Going Home

By Shane Ivey, (c) 1998 I went home. I went home to… well, I reckon you already know the name, even if they said I should tell you the rest. It’s right beside Sneed and Oneonta, up north in the great state of Alabama, up in the rollin’ hills and little mountains. I&#
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Clara’s Names

By Shane Ivey, (c) 1998 The CIA operations officer ran fearful and breathless down grimy cement stairs into the stuttering flourescent light and casual filth of an unnamed subway station on Lexington Avenue. She spared a glance up the stairs and saw an orange-hued streetlamp glaring a
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Bleeding Darkness

By Shane Ivey, (c) 1998 The Morgue was cramped and ill-lit, an archaic and frightful repository of death held over in the modern day only by the vagaries of city funding and dubious tradition. Its halls were narrow, as were its operating rooms and its storage chambers, all of them mad
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Y.GOLO.NET

By Shane Ivey, (c) 1998 Teddy often sat in the silence of a darkened bedroom, a room rank with the smells of teenage sweat and filthy clothes, lit only by the pale glow of a monitor and disturbed only by the soft sounds of gasps and grunts from the computer’s speakers. He typed
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Main Street

By Shane Ivey, (c) 1998 “GET OFF THE STREET, YOU NAZI BASTARDS!” The woman shouted it through a bullhorn so her words rang across the street, jarring even over the din of hundreds of other screaming protestors, over the shouted orders of mounted police officers, and over t
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Curse of the Pishtacos – Document #8405 (La Maldicion de los Pishtacos)

By Shane Ivey, ©1999 The trucks rumble slowly through a quiet and rain-soaked afternoon. They move drunkenly, pushing through the clinging mists and brushing countless low branches aside, listing with each twist of the mountain road and staggering with each gaping pothole. To visitors
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