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madhole

Madhole

These days being a hazmat guy is fairly routine work.  Despite some of the popular misconceptions, there really isn’t a whole lot to it.  I show up to a site, handle business, and let chemistry take care of the rest. As one might expect, working under a contracting agency means […]

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isolation

Isolation

Day 1 Alright, this is day one of seclusion for me. My therapist recommended that I get away for at least a week to try and get my shit together. He also suggested that I keep a journal of my time in voluntary isolation to keep track of my progress.

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hel ward 54

Hel Ward 54

When James and Linda Scott welcomed the arrival of their first daughter Ella Marie. Nothing seemed to be better. The pregnancy was a text book scenario. Nine months of classes, preparing a room and eagerness for her to arrive all seemed to go swimmingly. Linda was wonderful and the birth

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For thirty years, I’ve been receiving letters from a land that doesn’t exist

For thirty years, I’ve been receiving letters from a land that doesn’t exist

I’ve always held a fascination with the sea, the vast blue oceans that account for two-thirds of the Earth’s surface. I grew up on the west coast of Ireland, enjoying pristine and almost abandoned beaches facing out onto the cold and wild waters of the North Atlantic. My father served

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I am an Irish Ghost Hunter My last investigation almost cost me everything.'

‘I am an Irish Ghost Hunter. My last investigation almost cost me everything.’

If like me you identify as an introvert and consider yourself as something of a misanthropist, you’ve probably dreamt at one point or another of escaping to a deserted island somewhere and living in peace and solitude, free from the stresses of the modern world. The fantasy of running off

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forever and always

Forever and Always

Everybody loves the woods, until they follow you home. When my father came back from the military, we bought our first house—a boxy, two-story affair on the woodsy outskirts part of town. I was twelve, going on thirteen then. Our neighborhood was a little off the beaten path, nestled somewhere

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season of storms

Season of Storms

“What a frickin’ mess this is.” Detective Mike Barrow stood atop a muddy ridge on a humid Monday morning, looking down at a small crew of police personnel in a heavily wooded ravine. In the middle of the action was a dead body that had apparently washed up onto the

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