A man explores a dangerous and mystical swamp haunted by memories of lost love and broken covenants. He struggles between his desire for adventure and his guilt, finally leaving the swamp but longing to return. — The swamp lay before me, a vast expanse of tangled vines and murky waters. The air was thick with the scent of decay, the buzz of insects, and the distant call of a lonely bird. It was a place of secrets, a place where the past and present mingled in…

Time is a circle, and the past is waiting for us to catch up. Again. — The stench of lost and broken dreams hit me like a sledgehammer as I pried open the door to my newest conquest — Joe’s Bar and Grill. The joint was pitch black and empty — just like my heart — but I soldiered on. …

The quiet shadow of a dingy dive joint and the liquid fire of a bottle of whiskey. That’s all a man needs to unburden himself of life’s troubles. Or better yet, to even bring to mind his victories. — The shadows hung thick as a noose in that lovely, lonesome dive bar. The only light in the joint either drifted through the cracks of the boarded-up windows or from the dim bulbs over the bar. I took a deep swig of my whiskey and felt its fiery embrace fill…

A world’s birth requires the death of the old world. When building a new world, there is no time to mourn the ones left behind. — Susan and her best friend, Jill, walked serenely through the garden. A garden of roses and orchids and the bodies of the dead and dying. Although she was only eight years old, Susan felt no fear there. Jill would protect her, as she had always done. Her best friend. Her…

The best place for the past is in your rearview mirror — CW: If you're an easily offended prude, go fuck yourself since nobody else will. And really, this story and all the stories in Redemption, will be too much for your white bread, middle class, suburban life. Don't go away mad, just go away. Now, if you're still around, let's have…

The bit of my lash into their soft, virgin skin is intoxicating. Invigorating, even. My sweet, passionate raison d’être. — CW: If you're an easily offended prude, go fuck yourself since nobody else will. And really, this story and all the stories in Redemption, will be too much for your white bread, middle class, suburban life. Don't go away mad, just go away. …

After the drought and famine, the soldiers and the tanks rolled into our town. They weren’t our soldiers. They weren’t our tanks. But they thought they could take what little we had left without consequence. — After the drought and famine, the soldiers and the tanks rolled into our town. They weren’t our soldiers. They weren’t our tanks. But they thought they could take what little we had left without consequence. They thought they would roll in, take what we had, and then roll out.

Just another job. Pay the kidnappers and free the girl. How hard could it be? — Tick. Tick. Tick. Frank looked down at his watch and stared. The minute hand kept ticking. It sweeps from one tick to the next without emotion. No remorse for the time it has just sent to oblivion. …

The flames devour and destroy, but they also renew and reinvigorate. To preserve, one must also exterminate. — Content Warning: Bad things happen below. The flames lept and danced, pirouetting from one virgin page to the next. It was mesmerizing, this dance of salvation. Only from the flames will we find salvation. Only the cleansing fire can save us from the evils found within the degenerate minds of…