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To the whisper and the thunder, the moon and its shadow, the moment and the lifetime.
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To every heart, beating or cold...
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To the dark, my friend, the dark.
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To the crash and burn, the bait and switch, the hope denied.
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To the fickle heart...
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To the saint, the prophetess, the broken idol.
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To an old friend, a lost love, a bitter enemy, a fallen hero.
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My first novel, written after years of aborted plotlines. A slow-burning psychological thriller that examines every human's capacity for violence.
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I slid to a stop, unable to fathom the strange sight before me.
It was early; the late November morning was drenched in a thick fog, a haze which..
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"Did you know him?"
I turned the words over in my head again and again as I stood on a grassy knoll several yards away from the rest of the mourn..
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