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October 16, 2005

Volume 7, Issue 16

Click for bigger (which takes you to original photo/photographer).

It is titled Vanished.

What's the story here?

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Ted: Gone Out

"Gone out" the note said. Martha looked at it again, flipped it over to look at the back, hoping to see something she might have missed. A note and a pair of shoes. After eight years. No more courtesy than that. Shit. Martha threw the offensive shoes into the alley. He'll be sorry if somebody came along and stole his shoes. That'd show him.

Frank, returning home, stood in the shadows, listening to Martha rant. Dammit. He had left his shoes to show that he was coming back, but still she bitched. He put on his shoes and kept going.

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Michele: In His Shoes

He was knocked right out of his shoes.

I always thought it was just a saying. A person couldn’t physically be knocked out of snug, laced up shoes, right?

I really don’t remember much except a blur of motion and Chris’s pained scream.

When I opened my eyes, Chris was laying on a stretcher, his face and chest covered with someone’s I ❤NY sweatshirt. His legs and feet were uncovered and I noticed the socks. Black socks.

I found one shoe in front of the car that hit him, the other near the curb.

I took them home with me.

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Laurence - Down in the Den

If you want to come in Hell's Den, you need to play by the rules:

Leave your shoes outside. Your socks, too.

Cut the knuckles on your left hand with a silver knife.

Knock three times. Two raps, a pause, and then one hard knock.

Really hard. It's a long way down, and it's sometimes hard to hear.

Stand back. Door opens fast.

No saints allowed.

Only sinners.

Got diseases? Bad diseases?

Good. The more the better.

But when you come to Hell's Den, come alone.

Once you're inside, trust me, you won't be lonely.

Tell them Jesus sent you.

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