Hurley Pulp: The Extraordinary Case of Dr Hurley’s Remains

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he moon cast long shadows on the gravestones as Jonathan’s shovel hit something solid with a thunk. A look of triumph passed over his face. Now he’d prove all those believers wrong.

Immortality, ha!

He began prying the lid off, the nails popped out of the rotten wood easily. Jonathan took a deep breath, expecting to be overwhelmed by the stench of decay at any second. But it never came.

He stared at the contents aghast.

“It can’t be…”

All that remained of Dr Hurley was a perfectly preserved clutch of lilies and a bottle of his famous snake oil.

Louise Kane

Hurley Pulp: Tricky Trader

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hat’s he done that got your knickers in such a twist anyhow Joe? Sold your wife some fancy soap?”

“I wish that were it sheriff. But Betty, she been diff’rent since he rolled in, coming home with notions.”

“Notions?”

“Notions sheriff. ‘Pinions ’bout things…you know, private things, ‘atween man and wife.”

The sheriff raised his eyebrows.

Next day, Dr Hurley was nowhere to be found. A mob was gathering on main street, Joe at the head.

The sheriff held up his hand as he approached. “Don’t worry Joe. That Irish quack is long gone.”

“Yeah,” said Joe. “And so’s our wimmen.”

Louise Kane