Cosmic Karma_Dreams, Not Angels_Play It Again_In His Hands
Catalog Guide:
Cosmic Karma
I’m a guest in my own bedroom. Normally, a thought like that would make me chuckle, but the awkward sparseness of the room grounded me in reality. My queen bed with the dark blue comforter and two almost flat pillows had been replaced with a short twin bed with orange fleece bedding that did not go with the tan carpet. This room used to have so much more in it. The bed was now against the opposite wall and all of my furniture was sold after mom and dad died. I didn’t want to deal with anything in this house after my parents died, and the thought of being in the house for years after their dea...
Dreams, Not Angels
“Are you there, God? It’s me, the idiot you just tried to kill.”These were the only words I had the strength to mutter as I pulled my suitcase down an already bustling airplane terminal. I wasn’t one to talk to myself, usually, at least not aloud, but the woman strolling ahead of me had white earbuds jammed all the way into her cochleas and showed no interest in my delusional ramblings. Besides, I’d had a rough day. My lack of religion wasn’t going to stop me from venting.My heart was still pounding. I couldn’t believe it—not even a day ago, I had been writing in my worn little notebook about...
Play It Again
“Where did you get this?” “Where did I get what?” “This oval mirror, with the wood frame. Some kind of bird carved on the top. Looks like a black bird, raven, one of those strange birds. And here on the bottom some kind of plant. A vine of some kind, but the leaves appear to have faces.” “It belonged to my Grandmother. It was in the basement of her old house. The silver backing is starting to go so the reflection is a bit cloudy, but it’s the sentiment that Iwww.onedoor.cc enjoy.” “You remember this mirror being in your Grandmother’s house?” “No, I don’t remember ever seeing it until I was helping my mothe...
In His Hands
Everything was ready for the ritual… everything except me. He would soon fix that. The sensation of his hand sliding to the base of my neck wakes me from a deep slumber. He cradles my head, his fingers wrapping around the back of my neck as he’s done many times before. A gentle squeeze later, he has me exactly where he wants me. How I’ve longed for his embrace. His hands are home, they’re safety incarnate – like reinforced walls, impenetrable. I’m where I belong. It’s time again, isn’t it? I’m yours to command. Use me. My entire life has been devoted to serving him as the primary instrument t...