Art © Frank Picini
ALIVE, GASPED A WOMAN WITH AN UGLY GUNSHOT WOUND in her temple. There was a dribble of blood, charred bone. Not dead, moaned a man with a noose around his neck and pants at his ankles and a curious contrap- tion assembled about his privates. Accident, the man explained, I didn’t, I didn’t mean to, while a trio of pale girls with needles and tubes dangling from their arms chorused as one Too hiiiiigh…
Trista said, “This is the lair between life and death, Billy. These people… They are confused. They are the dying, the recent dead. They cannot harm you, boy.”
“Well they’re FREAKING ME THE FUCK OUT!”
PLUS: The return of the CotD!
Go there. Now. You know you want it.
Exit Vector runs weekly at UNDERLAND PRESS
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