<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?><rss xmlns:dc="http://purl.org/dc/elements/1.1/" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" version="2.0"><channel><title><![CDATA[RSS Feed]]></title><description><![CDATA[RSS Feed]]></description><link>http://direct.ecency.com</link><image><url>http://direct.ecency.com/logo512.png</url><title>RSS Feed</title><link>http://direct.ecency.com</link></image><generator>RSS for Node</generator><lastBuildDate>Sat, 25 Apr 2026 08:12:42 GMT</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="http://direct.ecency.com/@ccaison/rss" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title><![CDATA[Chasing A Dream]]></title><description><![CDATA[Niklas clutched his chest. His heart implant worked overtime as he ran down the alleyway. Water pooled on the uneven pavement, reflecting the illuminated skyline of Freeport City at night. The image shattered]]></description><link>http://direct.ecency.com/story/@ccaison/chasing-a-dream</link><guid isPermaLink="true">http://direct.ecency.com/story/@ccaison/chasing-a-dream</guid><category><![CDATA[story]]></category><dc:creator><![CDATA[ccaison]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Wed, 25 Jul 2018 02:01:51 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[The Calling]]></title><description><![CDATA[Tom yawned as he leaned back in his desk, crossing his arms over his faded Metallica T-shirt and stretching his legs, knees flexing through the frayed holes in his jeans. The day’s starting bell rang and]]></description><link>http://direct.ecency.com/story/@ccaison/the-calling</link><guid isPermaLink="true">http://direct.ecency.com/story/@ccaison/the-calling</guid><category><![CDATA[story]]></category><dc:creator><![CDATA[ccaison]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Mon, 09 Jul 2018 01:49:12 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[The Basement Apartment]]></title><description><![CDATA[The door opened to the basement apartment, swallowing the last light of the afternoon sun into its dark maw. The landlord, skin speckled with age spots and a tuft of unkempt gray hair sitting atop his]]></description><link>http://direct.ecency.com/story/@ccaison/the-basement-apartment</link><guid isPermaLink="true">http://direct.ecency.com/story/@ccaison/the-basement-apartment</guid><category><![CDATA[story]]></category><dc:creator><![CDATA[ccaison]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Sat, 30 Jun 2018 13:45:30 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Stay at Home Mom Assassin!]]></title><description><![CDATA[“What’s your day job?” asked Trent. “You know, when you’re not on mission.” Trent was in his late twenties and kept a clean face and a crew cut, telltale signs of man fresh out of the service. He was new]]></description><link>http://direct.ecency.com/story/@ccaison/stay-at-home-mom-assassin</link><guid isPermaLink="true">http://direct.ecency.com/story/@ccaison/stay-at-home-mom-assassin</guid><category><![CDATA[story]]></category><dc:creator><![CDATA[ccaison]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Fri, 29 Jun 2018 12:21:30 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Dirtshire Detective]]></title><description><![CDATA[It was nearly noon and the smell of the corpse that lay contorted in a mix of mud and horse dung already choked the air in the small village of Dirtshire. Archibald Flemigan sighed as he leaned over for]]></description><link>http://direct.ecency.com/story/@ccaison/dirtshire-detective</link><guid isPermaLink="true">http://direct.ecency.com/story/@ccaison/dirtshire-detective</guid><category><![CDATA[story]]></category><dc:creator><![CDATA[ccaison]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Fri, 29 Jun 2018 12:14:30 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[Much Ado About List]]></title><description><![CDATA[Tweasy the witch nervously paced to and fro in the kitchen of her small bungalow, staring at a black leather grimoire lying on the counter. Light jazz played on the stereo in the living room and the scent]]></description><link>http://direct.ecency.com/story/@ccaison/much-ado-about-list</link><guid isPermaLink="true">http://direct.ecency.com/story/@ccaison/much-ado-about-list</guid><category><![CDATA[story]]></category><dc:creator><![CDATA[ccaison]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Fri, 29 Jun 2018 12:04:12 GMT</pubDate></item><item><title><![CDATA[LAWyer in the West]]></title><description><![CDATA[Samuel Blackthorn slammed his fist down on the oak table in his lawyer’s office, knocking over a fountain pen from its stand and ruffling a stack of papers. “I own this town!” he shouted. “I ain’t gonna]]></description><link>http://direct.ecency.com/story/@ccaison/lawyer-in-the-west</link><guid isPermaLink="true">http://direct.ecency.com/story/@ccaison/lawyer-in-the-west</guid><category><![CDATA[story]]></category><dc:creator><![CDATA[ccaison]]></dc:creator><pubDate>Fri, 29 Jun 2018 11:58:24 GMT</pubDate></item></channel></rss>