I Killed My Writer’s Ego

Death to the entitled writer!

Photo by davide ragusa on Unsplash

The black-gloved hand pressures the wheel a bit more. After having been at this for what seems like a lifetime, the wretch lying on the platform, with his hands above him tied with a chain that feeds into a pulley, and his feet strung firmly to the stock, can only scream in pure wretched agony.

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