It was only after our daughter, a policewoman, was killed that I remembered the picture. A family picture in which a strange blemish had appeared on our daughter’s image, marking the exact spot the bullet entered her throat.
They promised us a just reward in paradise if we did terrible things in the name of our god. But they were as wrong as this hellish limbo is empty.
I found myself in a cold, wet place, unsure of how I got there. I wasn’t alone: the bodies of the other passengers and crew floated in the cold with me.
The last time I ever went fishing, I met an old guy with a limp and asked how he caught so many fish; there were at least ten in his basket. Wild-eyed and grinning he showed me the line of fish-hooks embedded in his calf.
Looking at the board as I got up I figured that, if I made a real effort, today might be an improvement.
Hi Score: 325,760.