Für Elise_Modes of Transportation_Scratching_Death are they, they are death!
Catalog Guide:
Für Elise
I sat with my spine as straight as the needle my mother used once to sew my favorite childhood stuffed white dove on that black rigid stool as I let my fingers dance over the keys of the shiny grand piano enveloped by the hollow stage. Beethoven’s Für Elise flooded the small space, and I was gifted with the unceasing attention of about 58 strangers. It was a full house and the auditorium seated 60 classical music enthusiasts. I had rehearsed this piece so fluidly my brain needed not to think of what chords followed, my eyes needed not to read the sheet music resting on the stand, and the musc...
Modes of Transportation
It was almost midnight, and Kevin was doing about sixty in his dad’s MG. He was in the right lane on Highway 76, a four-lane from Clemson to Anderson, South Carolina. There was a three-foot-wide asphalt median full of gravel and broken glass. The road was curving to the left as he passed Tony Patterson’s house. Their floodlight helped him see their yellow translucent glass ball on the pedestal in their front yard. People thought gazing balls kept birds away from your garden, but Kevin thought they looked tacky. They belonged in trailer parks, not here, where the thousands of visitors coming fr...
Scratching
It was a dingy little apartment, hidden away in a shady corner of the city. The building looked otherworldly, the walls chipping away with age, and the windows cracked and filthy. Inside, the room was murky and dull, with only one flickering lamp spewing a pale yellow light. The air reeked of staleness, and the walls were littered with shelves containing aged books and oddities.In the middle of the room sat a woman, huddled over a small table. Her hair was straggly and messy, and her complexion was pallid and sallow. She was fixated on a black cat that sat calmly at the edge of the table, its ...
Death are they, they are death!
You always remember your first time. Your first bike, your first kiss, your first lover, your first car, your first death. I think they stick out in your memory as they set the bar, the next ones can only get better, right? I mean, when I was sixteen, I had a black BMX, complete with stunt pegs on the wheels, but questionable brakes. After a few bumps, trees hit and a broken arm, I upgraded and got one with disc brakes. That reduced the injuries somewhat. My first kiss was with Mary Feldham, a short mousey looking girl who wouldn’t say boo to a goose. There was no romwww.onedoor.ccantic build up to this, or...