The moonlight glinted off the man's ax as he moved towards the house through the fallow field.

The radio host laughed off his violent rhetoric even after the shootings but that all changed the day they came knocking on his door, guns in hand.

"When I finally accepted that my path was different from everyone else's and stopped trying to compare myself to others, I was able to break through the wall and reach my true potential," the former president confided, his face unreadable in the fire light.

They picked the bones clean.

The sound of their voices giving praise could be heard for miles.

The one day of the year in which we all become competitive eaters had finally arrived.

He felt a deep connection to long-dead artists as he wandered the museum's halls.

On the road was the only place Pam felt as if she could think clearly.

It wasn't until Lyle gave up his literary pretensions and dumbed down his style that he hit it big.

We woke up that morning to find the world still ticking on, as if the night's chaos had had no effect on the day.

With every attack the government chipped away at the Constitution.

Distracted by the pretty face and sweet talk, Clark was unaware he was gazing into the face of evil.

They buried history so they could continue the killing unabated.

The drunken jazz band sounded like they were playing on a ship in a storm and the equally inebriated dancers stumbled across the floor as if they too were aboard a swaying vessel.

Brad woke slowly from a drug- and booze-induced haze, his forehead burning, and discovered he'd somehow ended up with a question mark tattooed on his face.

Already on edge, we began to suspect friends as well as strangers.

His hands were like the late-fall leaves, but his smile was a sweet summer breeze.

Mildred loved to mambo but loathed the Lindy hop.

The talkshow host ran out of questions and sat staring blankly at the pop star seated across from him.

Dodging the traffic Darren drunkenly stumbled across Fifth Avenue towards the next bar.

"Everyone is gonna pay," he thought, his addled brain still not sure how or when this would come to pass.

Their secret meetings made the front page.

The misty-morning light played across the placid sea.

Lying through his too-white teeth, he told tales of pulling himself up by the bootstraps, when in truth he lived off his family's wealth and was waited on hand and foot.

The stupidest of the politicians got caught.

We watched them watching us.

Roger was no longer sure whether he was a tough reporter or just a bully.

What I thought was the end was just the beginning and there were lower and lower circles of Hell for me to explore.

The banknotes burned easily.

It was that in-between time after the leaves had fallen and before the snow came.