The Collapsed, The Elite_Clarice Farm_A Sickly Sweet Day._The Thing at Wanderer's Creek
Catalog Guide:
The Collapsed, The Elite
TW: Violence, gore, language“I’ve been waiting for this day all week!”“Me too boo! I can’t believe it’s been over a year since we’ve seen each other.”“I honestly missed New York so much.”“I missed you like crazy. It was so weird not seeing you in classes anymore. I’m just glad you’re back for the summer, I’m never letting you go.www.onedoor.cc”The vibrant trees pass us by, bathing in the steaming sunshine.My hands dance outside the window, and Kenje laughs at my movements. I love carefree moments like this, when I can get lost in the present.My life has always been about the future. People asking me, when w...
Clarice Farm
The clock blinked dimly 12:00. Your eyes focus on it as you reach for the knob to the radio of your 2014 Passat. You have been meaning to change the time for a while now but have not yet mustered up the moment to do during your busy schedule. The road repetitious of bushes and trees and the occasion 18-wheeler that you do your best to avoid fearing to get into a deadly accident. You are not sure how your station changed from today’s hits to a static white noise AM station. You leaned over and glimpsed at the dim orange station to see that the station was changed from 101、5 to 22、2、 there is a ...
A Sickly Sweet Day.
Annie cracked the front door of her suburban home and let the first gust of nippy air rush passed her hooded head, red looping curls peered out around the her hood. The pinnacles of the trees in the neighborhood whirled wildly with the strong winter winds carrying with them much colder weather. A light sprinkle of rain only added to the bone chilling affect. Water logged leaves lay bunched up against Annie's front porch still soaking in the gutters run-off. The smell reminded Annie of her grandparents dirt floor basement in Iowa. Mr. Gibbles, Annie and Derek's British shorthair, began to whisk...
The Thing at Wanderer's Creek
Julias mindlessly prodded the bubbling strips of bacon as they were being seared straight past what most would consider overdone. But the burnt bacon was routine for the first order of the day, which made its way onto the plate of the number seven combo, delivered to the always on time Sheriff’s Deputy Briscoe. Both the curse of being a moderately small town, and of the deputy’s graveyard shift meant that he was always the first in a seat at the bar across from the grill.The deputy gave Julias a courteous nod as he thanked him for the breakfast plate, and turned in his seat to begin chatting u...