Way With Words

Felix’s novels were a War Crime against Literature. So, for these crimes, he was banished to the circle of despised Literary Critics.
He didn’t just have a way with words – he had his way with words. In the worst possible way, in the back of his unmarked white van.
When he was done with them, he’d send his article to the publisher and leave the bloody, sweaty, shivering words on a playground for the children to discover.
His headstone will be blank. No words would associate with this monster, and no numbers are brave enough to cross the picket lines.