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  • As his eyes grew stern and his neck creaked, I felt a change in his body, and the gloom of displeasure enveloped me. “Too many of the young, don’t know of sin. Too many of the young don’t know of hell” he said in tired frustration, long bore and firmly embedded. I never found out his name. He remained at camp for several days, and then was gone

  • Gently entering through the door, the smell of decay hit me again. The air of sickness was vomit inducing and the low light sources which had been activated on each wall, flickered and buzzed casting menacing shadows, that loomed large as I moved.

  • Shortly after the fall, there were bands of men and women who had rejected the Valve, they came clawing and fighting. Skin hanging off their bones, and as they slowly decayed so too did their will to fight en masse. They settled, retreated to the dark corners of the city and now they exist there as the walking dead

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J.S. Cross is an English author, currently studying for a degree, part time, in the classics and creative writing with the Open University. Having an interest in horror and science fiction since childhood, he merges these two genres along with dystopian themes to create unique and compelling stories, heavily based within the human experience. 

Having published his debut novel, The Boy Without the Valve, he is hard at work on his second publication, Night Owls, expected Winter 26.

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