Over 2 hours and growing: Build a complex maze, feed it enough data, and the shadow in the center just might start to breathe. I’m Jack Hammer and
The Perils of Hate: Monuments Built on Quicksand. The whispers started in the alleyways, down where the shadows stretch long and the truth gets twisted like
THE PRIVATE STASH
"I tried to write a story about honesty in Washington, but my typewriter jammed. Must’ve sensed the lie before I did. Around here, truth’s an endangered species—spotted once a decade, stuffed, mounted, and trotted out for campaign season."
Yours Truly,
Jack Hammer.
An Evening at the Local Playhouse Single Post
The Traveler’s Tale The big traveler lumbered to the bar, pulled up a stool that groaned under his weight, and ordered a beer. He wasn’t subtle,
