His Mercy Rains_Second to None_Tea at Ma's_The Hot Dog Killer
Catalog Guide:
His Mercy Rains
Trigger Warning: mild violence, humiliation, verbal abuseWatching the children cry out with pangs of hunger and thirst was the hardest part. The shame came with overwhelming guilt as the crops died and the last reservoir dried up. After two summers, the Elder Council of the Seiche Church dismissed the absence of rain as simply poor luck. When the last rain ended, there was nothing to distinguish it from another as it left with no fanfare. For the people of Arediel, the lack of indication those were the last drops was the most difficult part to bear. Perhaps they would have stood outside their...
Second to None
Five years. Five. God damn. Years. And this is what it had come to.A streak of orange light painted the inside of my car, the last signs of a dying day. The light illuminated the tear and makeup streaked face that I was unfortunate enough to catch a glimpse of in the rear-view mirror. “You’ve seen better days, Hun,” I said to myself, shocked by how the woman in the mirror looked. “Maybe that’s why it didn’t work out”. I chuckled, revealing a row of unhappy little teeth filling my mouth. It had been four days since I hadn’t been home and the inadequate petrol-station hygiene was really starti...
Tea at Ma's
“More tea for ya, kiddo?” The gentle innkeeper, known to her guests as simply “Ma,” held up a ceramic tea kettle with a wrinkly smile. The guest, a reserved man in his mid-thirties, hated her use of the word, “kiddo.” In fact, the false familiarity disgusted him and he worked to suppress a wave of nausea. He had hoped he could ignore the old woman, but there were no other guests downstairs for her to bother with. This inn was quaint and supposed to be a hot-spot for local tourists coming to try their hand at the ski runs on Beatty Mountain. Instead, the inn was still and quiet this morning. “O...
The Hot Dog Killer
[CW: language, sexual content, violence]My mind listlessly floats in wonderland. A rush of thick saliva floods the back of my throat as I imagine Luis gently pumping in and out of me. My legs squeeze tight and my hips thrust ever so slightly at the thought of Luis’s large hands pinning me to the hotel bed. I bite my lower lip to prevent a moan from escaping so as to not draw my husband’s attention. “Camila” — the way Luis says my name, dragging it out like thick sugar melting on his tongue. I play it over and over in my head. “Cuh – meh – laa,” three jarring syllables rush through my ears, bre...