Summer Kids

When Lucas Tweedle, leader of Left Hand Private Investigators, receives a box containing a film he hasn't seen in years, he is prompted on a road trip across miles and years. He has to save Eva Grey, the only girl that ever loved his teenage self.
She may be in the clutches of the Nemesis Crime Ring but the memories of the summer after college graduation haunt the both of them.






There was one great absolute; monsters would be made out of men. Men could be made out of monsters, but the word ‘could’ should be emphasised in that sentence.

The great absolute was something that Eva knew too much about since she was experiencing it first-hand, not from herself but from her captors.

The box allowed her to think with sharpening clarity, so much so that it allowed her to sum up her experiences in a small handful of words.


That was the word to describe the darkness in the box. The blackness went on for leaps and bounds in the tiny wooden confines.

Rattling. That was a word to describe her breath as she listened to the musical drips from the top of the box, water trickling down from a crack onto her folded up legs. 

Unnerving. That described the man’s laughter coming from a small distance away, sharp but low and disturbed like a hum.

Claustrophobic. She was a contortionist. Forced to bend instead of break. Her elbows connected to her knees like screws and the crescent moon marks on her palms, a muddy red like stormy sunsets, were the screwdrivers to her resolve.

Like the box she was small and desperately trying to hold on to all she could. Unlike the box, however, her screws and mechanics weren’t manufactured for forced conformity.

Her panic was rising, threatening to cut her, and her fear was making her retch. She couldn’t afford to retch, to cry or scream though.

That was what he wanted.

But she wasn’t a goddamned conformist and more than her life depended on rebellion. 


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