Anne Rice - v1, Lasher

He drank it he massaged her shoulders and her arms

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Unformatted text preview: e South Pole, you couldn't have thought of a more clever hiding place." Her heart sank. She slept. She was sick. When she woke she was bleeding. Miscarriage again, this time the viscid core was perhaps two inches long, maybe even longer, before it had begun to disintegrate. In the morning after she had rested, she took a stand. She was going to the institute, to test this thing, and to run what tests she could on him. She screamed and screamed. And finally in terror, and misery, he consented. "You're frightened to be without me, aren't you?" she asked. "What if you were the last man on earth?" he asked. "And I were the last woman?" She didn't know what that meant. But he seemed to know. He took her to the institute. All the normal motions of life were now nothing to him-hailing cabs, tipping, reading, walking, running, going up in '35 an elevator. He had bought himself a cheap little wooden flute in a store, and he played it on the street, very dissatisfied with it, and w...
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This note was uploaded on 02/20/2010 for the course WRITING 220.200 taught by Professor Julie during the Spring '10 term at Johns Hopkins.

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