The Performance We Shouldn't Have Done_A Ballad for Buck Dumpster_For Old Times’ Sake_Countdown
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The Performance We Shouldn't Have Done
The back room of the church is echoey and cold. It’s dusty as well, and I curl my lips up as I wave a hand in front of my face to keep the dust away. This is the worst place for a warm-up, and in any other circumstances I would be demanding to talk to the manager.“It’ll have to do,” I say.Isabella comes in behind me and looks round. “It’s fine. Thank you.” Her voice is duller than I remember, and so flat that I worry about how well she’ll do today.The door clicks shut and we’re left alone.“Better warm-up,” I say and start jumping on the spot. Anything to keep the chill of the room out.“Now I j...
A Ballad for Buck Dumpster
TW: This story contains themes of grief, death, and suicide in addition to some adult language. My brother Archie and I spent exactly four summers at Camp Gopher before it closed. And I guess it shouldn’t have surprised me when it did, not really. After all, even back then, before the recession, the place stayed open only for the grace of God (and the handiwork of a few dozen do-gooders and funders). They were the kind of people who claimed to want kids like us, with no other options, to have some place to go when school wasn’t in-session.But that’s not exactly a sustainable business model, I ...
For Old Times’ Sake
“I can’t believe you drug me out here.”“Stop complaining, it’ll be fun,” she says before grinning broadly at me. She’s enthusiastic today.“I should be coding right now.” I sound petulant, but it can’t be helped. I really don’t want to be here.“It’s a snow day.”“You don’t really have those when you work from home.”“You work all the time, it’s okay to take a day off once in a while, you know.”“Says the part-time librarian,” my words come out snider than I intended. I immediately regret the snarky comment as I glance over at Anna and see her raise anwww.onedoor.cc eyebrow in surprise while staring back at me.“...
Countdown to Execution
“No blindfold, please. I’d prefer to see my death coming.”The guard let out a cynical laugh. “You think you’re so tough saying that, don’t you?” He stepped in front of me, leaning his face inches away from mine. The minty-fresh smell of his breath was quite a contrast to his psychotic grin. “Nearly every person executed here has said the same thing. And you wanna know something? They all died the same way, with their brains splattered across the wall that you’re leaning on. You’re not anything special.”He turned away from me, stuffing the dirty blindfold in his back pocket. I could hear him ch...