Even if I had convict ancestry, I wouldn’t be ashamed of it. As far as I’m concerned, the real criminals back in those days weren’t twelve-year-old boys nicking a loaf of bread or a pair of socks to ward off hunger and blisters. No, it was those who exploited them; keeping the battler in the gutter while they sat around in their manors, sipping tea and admiring portraits of their toffee-nosed great grandfathers.
Cameron TrostTags: horror short-story ghost-story outback
- I don’t know what else to say.
- There is nothing else to say. A few minutes of words can’t change years of absurdity.
Tags: suspense short-story
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