Chained to a desk and a laptop, the large hotel window next to me is open. I look down over the city of Lincoln, feeling like a malevolent Lord.

People scurry like ants, cars zoom to and fro, seemingly in a hurry, but going nowhere.

I lord over it all from my clock tower, glad I don’t have a high powered rifle.

The time when I can disappear off the grid can never come soon enough. Remember this when one day the stories from this site become no more, just like your own mortality.


Wench, bring my ale, what say you?

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