Execution Day Jitters_The Problematic Ones_Gone!_Shots
Catalog Guide:
Execution Day Jitters
TW*** Language and ViolenceOn the evening before the execution, I drank eight cups of coffee, paced the house for a total of eighteen-hundred steps, tried on three press conference outfits, bought new makeup on Amazon, ate two tubs of double fudge, rearranged the living room furniture, and re-watched my recommendation for execution. The murder case was straight forward and easy to prosecute. Yes, I was confident—more confident than I had been on my other capital cases—of the defendant’s guilt. Hell at sentencing, I pushed Judge Marvis for execution, and yet I could not sleep. The house began c...
The Problematic Ones
“So, uhm…Did you guys know about this tradition?”“Nope.” They all replied.“Great. What do we do?”“Eat?” I looked in front of me at my empty plate, then quizzically looked at the man opposite me. Just as I was about to reply with a sarcastic comeback, we heard shuffling. Silence settled as we listened to what was happening outside the locked door, then a letter was pushed underneath. I snatched it away. “Hey!” The idiot who wanted to eat air complained.“Shut up, let her read it!” Replied the only other woman in our 5-person group, I liked her already.“Hmm…”“What does it say? Does it say when w...
Gone!
“It was right there!”“You say that every time you lose your phone, Celeste.”My mother’s grimace was growing on her face as I frantically started throwing the papers on the dining room table around searching for my phone.“I mean it this time,” I wailed and continued my desperate attempt to locate my Smartphone.“I would say retrace your steps, but we do not have time. We have to leave, now.”Her tone was final, and I let the last few teardrops that had been welling in my eyes escape down my cheeks. It was hopeless. All day without my phone. This would be excruciating. A wedding for my mom’s frien...
Shots
Trigger warning: alcohol addictionThe leather of the basketball made a satisfying swish as it sailed perfectly through the hoop, making no contact with the metal rim. Marcus whipped both hands towards Coach Martin, ready to take the next free throw. “How many is that, Coach?” “Number 100. That was your last shot.” Finally! Hitting 100 free throws before leaving the gym alwaywww.onedoor.ccs hit Marcus harder than anyone else. The center of his semi-professional team, he never had to shoot from more than two or three feet from the basket. Free throws were always the toughest part of the game for the seven-foo...