A few final changes; remove text about pre-release copy.

This is version 1.0!

horrors2.ltx

@@ -30,6 +30,7 @@
   Ba-var-ius
   hid-eous
   mos-qui-toes
+  may-be
 }
 
 \renewcommand\listfigurename{Illustrations}
@@ -75,15 +76,6 @@ copy, can be found at \url{http://gitorious.org/horrors2/book}.
 \hbox{}
 \vfill
 
-This is a pre-release copy of {\em Horrors 2}, a freely redistributable
-ebook.  This copy is made available for proofreading; a final copy will
-be published for anyone to download, along with instructions on how to
-print it and bind it into a real hardcover or paperback book.  For the
-latest, check the thread on the Something Awful Forums at
-\url{http://forums.somethingawful.com/showthread.php?threadid=3167703}.
-
-\vfill
-
 The authors would probably like to dedicate this book to the authors.  I
 am instead dedicating this book to anyone who has ever vomited tears
 and/or blood.  Stay strong, pukers.
@@ -120,7 +112,7 @@ time.
 Now, thanks to the internet, Ben's masterwork has received a second
 wind. In fact, many people were inspired by Ben's work. This
 compilation is the result of that inspiration. With Ben's permission,
-we’ve included a few of his most terrifying tales. What follows are a
+we've included a few of his most terrifying tales. What follows are a
 series of stories that aim to establish the same unique brand of horror
 as the master of terror himself. These stories emulate, derive, or pay
 homage to the classic Biddickian stories from Horrors. Many use Ben's
@@ -272,6 +264,7 @@ inspire you to take up the torch of Biddickian horror as well.
 \include{stories/and_Into.The_Truly_}
 \include{stories/JuicedSixFo.Haunted_Alley}
 \include{stories/Baron_von_Eevl.The_Horrid}
+\include{stories/A_Child_s_Letter.The_Mirror}
 
 
 

stories/A_Child_s_Letter.Yellow_Eye.tex

@@ -138,8 +138,8 @@ glimpsed something twist subtly in the shadows. He blinked.
 
 
 
-``I don't h---I mean, no, officer, they're not. My mama died
-when I was little, and my daddy, he's{\ldots}um{\ldots}he's---''
+``I don't h --- I mean, no, officer, they're not. My mama died when I
+was little, and my daddy, he's{\ldots}um{\ldots}he's ---''
 
 
 
@@ -238,7 +238,8 @@ gi---
 
 
 
-{\em I---yes, good night, Kaitilin. I'll{\ldots}be{\ldots}going{\ldots}now.
+{\em I --- yes, good night, Kaitilin. I'll{\ldots} be{\ldots}
+going{\ldots} now.
 If{\ldots} if that's all right{\ldots}}
 
 
@@ -248,7 +249,7 @@ If{\ldots}if that's all right{\ldots}}
 
 
 Luke Bavarious awoke outside of an apartment building somewhere
-near Forty-second Street and Dyer Avenue, sprawled across the hood
+near Forty-second Street and Dyer Avenue, spra\-wl\-ed across the hood
 of his car. The sun had just begun to rise above the tangled mass
 of skyscrapers all around him. His mouth tasted like vinegar, and
 he smelled like a slaughterhouse.

stories/BatsBjorg.The_Horrid.tex

@@ -19,7 +19,7 @@ Luke Bavarious could hear the sounds of the Mets game from the
 living room. He could also hear the sound of another Coors popping
 open. His father's alcoholism had become publicly known sense
 his mother had left. Luke Bavarious thought his father was probably
-about halfway through his Coors consumption. The Coors consumption
+about halfway through his Coors consumption. The consumption
 varied based on how poorly the Mets were playing, and right now
 they were on a hell of a skid. Luke Bavarious got a not-unwelcome
 rush from thinking the word ``hell.'' Hell, hell, hell,

stories/Brushingworth.Chamber_Po.tex

@@ -6,7 +6,7 @@
 Feebly, Luke Bavarious reached into his mouth and pushed on his
 molar. He winced as it shifted unpleasantly in its socket. Pain
 shot down his jaw and Bavarious clenched the edge of the sink. The
-dried blood caked onto his hand cracked and fell into the sink in
+dried blood caked onto his hand cra\-cked and fell into the sink in
 large flat scabs. Bavarious raised his head and turned on the
 water, hot all the way. Steam rose from the large sink. Bavarious
 was in the basement of his office building. The door he had just

stories/Dirty_Sanchez.A_Tin_of_P.tex

@@ -28,7 +28,7 @@ It all started with a can of overpriced popcorn. You know the kind,
 one half covered with a powdery orange substance that's supposed to
 be cheese and the rest a solid brick of caramel and popcorn that
 requires an ice pick to break apart. The popcorn itself was not my
-problem but rather the scrawny kid who brought it. Timmy was his
+problem but rather the scr\-awny kid who brought it. Timmy was his
 name, or was it Tommy? It doesn't matter. All that mattered were my
 Captain's words to me in his office that morning.
 

stories/The_Iron_Fury.The_Horrid.tex

@@ -39,7 +39,7 @@ her claw-like grasp. As soon as she was in the dank room, a slap
 encircled my raw face. Blazed like the fury for which she was aptly
 named.
 
-``How dare you leave me in Mexico,'' she sneered. I sneered back at
+``How dare you leave me in Mexico,'' she sneered. I snee\-red back at
 her sneer.
 
 ``How dare you shack up with that drug lord,'' I returned with equal

stories/Unununium.The_Scarec.tex

@@ -10,7 +10,7 @@ to the center of the field. Looking out, he knew he had a long way
 to go. His revolver sat snuggly in his jean pockets. He wasn't
 afraid to use it if he was heard.
 
-Luke's sneakers sunk into the moist soil, as he crept through the
+Luke's white sneakers sunk into the moist soil, as he crept through the
 corn field. He knew something was up. The full moon shined brightly
 into the center of the corn field. In the center of the field stood
 a mounted scarecrow. Its eyes beamed like an illuminating light,

stories/gigz.What_Went_.tex

@@ -34,7 +34,7 @@ sleep last night. I wasn't up late, and I fell asleep right
 away. I woke up on time, I had a bowl of cereal and a glass of
 orange juice, and I made it to school without being rushed.
 
-It's 11:32. Class is continuing as normal, and Mrs. Trencher
+It's 11:32. Class is continuing as normal, and Mrs. Tren\-cher
 didn't notice me sleeping. Then again, she is the type of
 professor that continues on with her lesson with, or without, your
 participation. If you miss the material, it is your own fault. I