Moistening the end of the cigar he leaned over the side of the bath grunting with effort as he tried to pick up a box of matches. "Damn! Colonel, pass...me those matches will you!" David reached down picked up the matches and handed the box over. Taking out an extra-long wooden match, he poked a hole through the length of the cigar. He then blew through the cigar from the other end to make sure it would draw. Finally, picking up the candlestick he brought the cigar over the flame and lit it.Soon. "I really am sorry," said Shelley. "I wish there was some other way. But there's no one around anymore to write the books, the stories, the poems, and plays that they need."Broken glass rained on Murphy and cold, slippery hands grabbed him. He screamed as pallid purple fingers tried to force their way into his mouth; he bit down, expelling them. The hooting, gibbering mob started breaking the lattice. A sharp fang nicked Murphy's ear, drawing blood. He closed his eyes and screamed as loud as he. More

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