• Alex Bitter


The cabin bumped about the heavy clouds that hit the craft. The sound of the engine roaring and thunder rumbling like a turf war between two tigers. But still, it wasn't enough to distract them. Maybe it was the soft glow of the control panel and hazard lights keeping them focused. Or maybe it was the gentle clanking of silver crosses against cold metal collars, displaying their name, social security number, religious affiliation, hell even their blood type. Some hold it in a tight fist, kissing the precious metal with trembling lips. It's time to tuck it away and jump.


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