The crash of thunder is heard as the rain beats down on the cold pavement. The city wails around you in a mix of sounds and fury. The smell of mankind and rot seems to assault you from all over. The blinking lights seem to be spelling out a desperate call for a similar time long since dead. The bright yellow taxi idles in front of you and a hairy man in a turban leans out the window and shouts something to you asking where you need to go. You shrug and climb in the back and say a hotel and he nods with a grin. Ten minutes later your in Harlem and ten seconds after the cab pulls away three guys come out of the shadows of an alley. Told about the drop by the cabbie and then they find you in the dumpster two days later naked and dead and poor. Welcome to the big apple it’s a our world with the darkness cranked to 10. It’s the metal and the punk it’s the world your mom warned you about welcome to the big apple. This story is about those fighting the dark the silent and violent protectors of New York. Come and listen to their howls of rage in the pouring rain in a world that truly does not care.

The howlers of the Big Apple.

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