Template:Adminpick/February 2016

“Farewell, happy fields, where Joy forever dwells! Hail, horrors, hail!”

—John Milton, Paradise Lost

Standing under the glow of a flickering streetlight, John Avery’s hands shook as he tried and failed to light the cigarette they held. With a mumbled curse the stubborn smoke finally caught and he inhaled deeply, the quick rush of nicotine helping steady nerves and hands alike while driving back the persistent urge to vomit that had, until a moment ago, been so pressing.

The flashing reds and blues of patrol cars, shattered by the light yet steady drops of falling rain, illuminated the yards of yellow tape that surrounded the building behind him.

The old factory, where once countless animals screamed their last before meeting the butcher’s knife, had long ago fallen into disuse. Until recently. (Read more...)