A man in a suit is holding a pair of white gloves.

Death Therapy… by Juliet Sneed

None of my stories (well, almost none of them) start out the way they are supposed to. I suppose this is normal, but it drives me nuts. I have an especially bad case of it, you see. The Azrael  started out as a semi-comedic little nightmare about a therapist whose client brings a corpse to […]

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