Uh ... is that common?
No.
My babies come to mind. The rack, the branks, the iron maiden, all of it. The women on the eve of their death, their bodies tangled with mine. Those same women the following evening, staring at me as they drew their last breaths. The nameless hordes staring up at me from the instant photos in the mail. The legions of people who killed themselves in my name.
Juanita, she's near the wheel that keeps my chain in place, and inches closer to it every minute. Those scorpions on the wall keep screaming for attention. The one on the right is a little bigger. The one to the left has more detail though. The stone bearing the tail is round, with what seem to be rays of light emanating from it, jutting out from the wall. Checking out the size of the tail and pincers it hi
