The 21 Voices
  • Reads 89
  • Votes 0
  • Parts 9
  • Time 52m
  • Reads 89
  • Votes 0
  • Parts 9
  • Time 52m
Complete, First published Mar 26, 2014
A 15 year old boy named Remy has always been different, but he never could put his finger on the imperfection he had. When Remy's neighborhood becomes a dangerous place, he starts to hear voices. Now these voices weren't his own they were voices of distant and beheaded people. Remy is forced to team up with some unlikely people to solve what is happening. Will Remy be up to the test, or will the voices drive to brink of madness?

18 year old Andrew was a smart cunning young man. He may never show up for class but his mother didn't raise any dummies. He knows how to get out of a tricky situation. Do you need blood cleaned up? Call Andrew he is a pro at blood control. Need someone to disappear? Andrew's got you covered. Let's just say he knows his way around a knife.
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A Swing in the Park

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It was the summer of 1976 when my father left us. It was a particularly memorable summer and my mother suffered terribly. My father had left her for a younger woman and moved into her apartment which was above a flower shop where she worked. My mother struggled making ends meet and got a job as a nursing assistant at Peaceful Haven, an old folks home that still exists although it is very badly run down now. Because she could not afford a baby sitter, my mother took me to work where I sat in the lounge and watched TV and read books. On her lunch breaks she took me across the street to Faulkner Park where she made out with Fred while I wandered around eating my sandwich. But I quickly grew bored. I was 8 then, a bright young girl with an active imagination. I imagined doors in the sandbox, swings into the sky, doors to another world. And in the rooms of the old lost souls were more doors only waiting to be opened. I took those souls with me on my adventures and eased their loneliness and age with my contagious eagerness to believe anything. And then a terrible thing happened to me, so terrible I could not speak of it. I was in hospital, unable to believe anymore and my old friends came to visit me and to believe for me. I am 30 now, and as I write this and look back I wonder if I still believe. And yes, I do. Believing got me through that summer and believing got my father to come home again.