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Category: Story Books

Story Books

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  • ONCE UPON A TIME IN the City of Angels, chaos was king, and carelessness

    ruled. Street gangs roamed the city. Most politicians bettered their own lives, not

    those of the people they were elected to serve. Neighborhoods declined to slumlike

    conditions. The Los Angeles school system stumbled headlong toward total

    Armageddon. And the most victimized segment of the populace?

    The children. The teens. The next generation.

    Limited choices and often abusive or neglectful home lives forced hundreds, if

    not thousands of children, into the streets to join gangs, turn tricks, do drugs, sell

    drugs, drop out of school, get arrested and sent to prison for life, and in all ways

    subjugate their goodness in the name of survival.

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  • Dark Desire


    Emily, we’ll be back around nine. Don’t let the kids stay up too late.”

    Jessi, my sister-in-law, said from the doorway to the living room.

    As if her twin girls would ever listen to a thing I said. The door closed, and I

    turned to my twin nieces. “Who wants ice cream?”

    The two little girls, identical blonde, sweet tyrants, screamed with joy as they

    looked back at me with gray eyes so similar to mine. They could be mine, if I

    wasn’t so busy all the time. I pushed the thought away and stood up from the

    pillow fort they’d built around me to head into the kitchen.

    Harry, the baby brother of the twins, slept in a playpen near the dark gray

    leather sofa, so I left him there. He was a growing boy, and he needed his sleep.

    Soon enough he’d join his older sisters in the kitchen with me.

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  • It was a Sunday evening in October, and in common with many other young

    ladies of her class, Katharine Hilbery was pouring out tea. Perhaps a fifth part of

    her mind was thus occupied, and the remaining parts leapt over the little barrier

    of day which interposed between Monday morning and this rather subdued

    moment, and played with the things one does voluntarily and normally in the

    daylight. But although she was silent, she was evidently mistress of a situation

    which was familiar enough to her, and inclined to let it take its way for the six

    hundredth time, perhaps, without bringing into play any of her unoccupied

    faculties. A single glance was enough to show that Mrs. Hilbery was so rich in

    the gifts which make tea-parties of elderly distinguished people successful, that

    she scarcely needed any help from her daughter, provided that the tiresome

    business of teacups and bread and butter was discharged for her.

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