The Hunting Of Eliza Corr: III

Read Part 1 & Part 2.

The item in his backpack, that palm-sized but heavy parcel of chrome, lay snug in a lower pocket and nuzzled rhythmically as his lower muscles contracted and stretched. The sun fired orange in his left eye and its lower lip quavered at the horizon. He loped across soft bare earth and tried to land between the ankle-high juttings of severed cornstalk rows, counting them and estimating acres crossed. On all sides around him there were no structures, no roads, and the nighthawks began to virrup their calls in a small scattered posse overhead. Each impact of his heel jarred his head, and by the time the daylight flicked a final finger in defiance of the half-moon at its apogee he knew he’d undone a stitch beneath his bandages.

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The Hunting Of Eliza Corr: II

Read Part 1.

This year the pre-Homecoming party was out at Joel Fenniker’s parents’ farm, west beyond the highway, across the harvested acres. There was always a Bonfire on the Friday before Homecoming — Bonfire on Friday, game on Saturday, the dance Saturday night. The voting for King and Queen had all been done in homeroom classes on Wednesday and although the coronation didn’t come until the actual dance, the Bonfire — unsanctioned by the school — was where the royalty was initially, informally, anointed.

A long walk. Wesley headed down the hill away from the high school lot, past the junior high that was now emptying too, hearing behind him the high wails and the masculine muttering beneath it of cops frustrated at the lack of a murder weapon. The weight of his pack pressed him on while he walked, down past the practice field below the junior high where the younger boys with peach-fuzzed chins and bad skin shunted a soccer ball around, back and forth, back and forth, upwind and unaware of twelfth-grade death.

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The Hunting Of Eliza Corr: I

Part 1 of 3

She shot Jimmy Paladin in the parking lot of Edenton High School during fifth period, when both she and her victim were supposed to be in chemistry. Jimmy was sitting in the passenger seat of Wesley Fager’s blue Camaro, with Wesley in the driver’s seat and Led Zeppelin on the stereo, when Eliza Corr came striding across the gravel lot of Hyundais and VWs wearing Jimmy’s letter jacket with the red 36 at the breast and a thigh-length gray skirt, stopped within two paces of Jimmy’s rolled-down car window, and pulled out the gun.

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Loving The Vampire: Tony Scott And The Arc Toward ‘Twilight’

Pendulum swings in culture are slow and ponderous; they only seem to come all at once because you’re not paying attention. Tony Scott, the famed filmmaker who took his own life this week, represents a point on the arc which carried the cinematic vampire from soulless destroyer to eternal demon lover. Without his stylishness, Twilight would have been a longer time coming.

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