Evil Kills


Violence and death go hand in hand concerning the countless tales told of Tombstone. Those who spent their whole life in the famous town knew of the hell that existed and walked the streets in the silence of the night.

Tales history will ignore, the psychotic breaks are easier to explain, however the true deep dark incidents are difficult to put into words. Some do not wish to speak of them for the terror of reliving such incidents is as horrifying as the time it happened. Some are superstitious, unwilling to stir up the past in concern it will revive the demons. 

Dreams or visions, one thing is certain, death.

"Death indeed!

Worms of the earth praise your gods, silver, gold, lust of the flesh. What good are your pitiful laws? Evil cares not for your hollow words. The very men who make the law care not for following such foolishness. 

The heel of the serpent will mash your head!

I shall introduce this day one of my fine minions.”

Evil Cares Not


- Rated MA - Mature Language and Violence -

"I’m sick of the bullshit stories. There are no demons in this house! Not once have I seen a damn thing, I need to get to work!”

The door slammed shut.

Evil Feeds


Rated PG13

Time is but a measure for humans, existence nothing more than madness. I wreak havoc on every generation. All of time has battled the forces of evil. All of time proves my point. The folly of good judgment ends the same, in the soil, dust to dust, yet evil lives, evil laughs never resting. Thousand years in a blink of an eye!

What is, fight the good fight?

Nothing more than yet another grave adorned, so and so fought the good fight. 

Blah, blah, blah. 

Flesh dies! Evil does not!

The sooner one can understand flesh is nothing more than rations for maggots and worms the sooner we can get down to business.

How can one sell their soul? 

What makes you think your soul is worth spit!

Play your games, pretend what you do matters, at the falling of light, when darkness exhausts breathe of life.

I will stare you in the eye and laugh. 

Shall we play!


He assured concealment of his weapon. The bar had two open seats. Bartender, tits barely contained in her push-up bra, beautiful hair, duel ponytails, daisy duke shorts torn in the perfect spot to see her red thong.

“Black and tan, boilermaker, use Jack.”

“High octane tonight, huh?”

He nodded, panned the room, the pool tables, each in use, a band sets up for the night. The mind viewed each individual as if through a rifle-scope. Drink set on the bar, turned, chugged half of it. Patron next to him took notice. Old man, tattered military jacked, looked like he owned the bar-stool.

“Damn, son, tough day?”

Slight turn to the inquiring individual; elbow on the bar, made no eye contact.

“Been sitting on that stool long?”

“Shit, came back from Korea and sat here.”

“Then you should have the sense to know when someone needs to be left alone.”

“Shit, I got ya, I got ya.”

Remaining beverage slammed.

“Another one, Honey?”

“Pint of Bass shot of Jack.”

The mind’s eye ran a slide show of his previous sprees. The blood red tint excited him, a bullet rips flesh, blood streams out the back of the head and puddles while the eyes go black. A smile appeared on his face. Licked his lips, turned back to the bar, downed the shot and chased it with half the pint. 

Another patron took notice. Has the ability to recognize trouble and took a defensive position.

Crazy sought a challenge, brutality entertained his instability and he knew shock would freeze the crowd. Voices scream. “Pick someone, do it, do it now!”

Target acquired... 



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