Bring Out Your Dead

We – a collective of authors delegated with the task of collecting writers’ bodies because we knew their location – had just come up to Woodgold’s garret.

We had placed his body in the back of the cart, and had carefully laid two copper coins on his eyes, one on each one.

Suddenly, he sat bolt upright and began shouting profanities at the top of his lungs.

*          *          *

To read the full story, please click on the following link.

Bring Out Your Dead


About clearpolitics

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