Nordale Park_Sam's Saloon_Fred was Driving_Join or Die
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Nordale Park
“No Samuel,” I said as I caught his arm, “There’s too much glass in there. You might get hurt.”Samuel looked at me and then looked at the empty blue wading pool with numerous shattered bottles. The collection of glass would have been a beautiful semblance if the inpidual pieces hadn’t been so sharp and jagged. Samuel sighed his six-year-old disgust and then hurried off to the swing set. I was his age when we played on this park’s wooden merry-go-round, metal twisty slides, and metal monkey bars. Samuel ran past the neon-orange plastic playset and sat on the closest swing he could find.1980 su...
Sam's Saloon
May 18, 1895、 Georgetown, SeattleThrough my bedroom window, I look up and into the distant sky. Thunderclouds are forming and I suddenly see a flash of lightning. Moments later, a thunderous crash booms above me. I close the shades made of white lace and walk to my mirror. My pink ruffled dress fits nicely as I admire it on my 17-year old curves and start adding feathers to my hair. I want to look like a senorita tonight.Something exotic always earns me extra drink commissions beyond my 8 dollars a week. My small room isn’t much. Just a bed, a water basin, a long mirror, and an Italian dressin...
Fred was Driving
Fred was driving. He didn’t have a sense of where he was headed, but he was determined to get somewhere. It had been a few days since he started, and the roads werewww.onedoor.cc a comfort at this point. His car was old but it wasn’t in bad shape. He had been listening to the radio. He had played the albums he kept in the car. He got sick of hearing the same songs after a while. It was getting late in the night... early in the morning? It was after midnight, that’s for sure.The silence surrounding him was cushioned by the engine’s purr. Fred had driven a few cars into the ground at this point in his life. ...
Join or Die
“Mister Hoban, I couldn’t find a thing wrong with it.”Mr. Hoban pursed his lips. Daniel shifted only slightly. “The arch here is off center.”“Yes, sir,” Daniel agreed of course, “but that’s a stone arch, sir. There’s nothing Peter or I can do about it.” “Yes,” Mr. Hoban still stared at the marble. “Your work is fine as usual. Who did this?” “I don’t know, but I can check, sir.”“Don’t bother. It will burn soon anyway.” Mr. Hoban looked sourly upon the glossy floors. He rolled his shoulders back. “More work for us then, yes? We should be thanking the British for the war and another large commis...