Behind the Church_Switched Identity_The secret Ingredient_Seconds to Discourse
Catalog Guide:
Behind the Church
Dennis Moore was never the type of person to be considered a murderer. He was never the type of person to be considered unholy or dishonorable. He was the type of man who went to church every Sunday morning. He wasn't guilty of this execrable crime.He had simply been at the wrong place at the wrong time.The fateful day took place on the first day of spring — a Sunday morning. It seemed, in fact, like the perfect day of the year. But even though it seemed perfect, one cannot believe that it would be a perfect day.The sun began to peek over the distant hills, greeting the early risers. Small f...
Switched Identity
Boom! Bang! The blast of the berettas reverberated throughout Saul’s living room. These were close enough to be on his front porch. Were they for him this time? A shudder formed at the base of his spine and raced to his skull, spider webs of terror weaving through his hair follicles. He shook. How had it come to this? Cowering in his own home nauseated him, especially when this situation was usually reversed.Like a trapped rat on a sinking vessel, Saul abandoned his ghetto house. His go bag had been repacked on return from what was supposed to have been his last hit. He scooped it off...
The secret Ingredient
"What we'll do Kim! The main ingredient isn't here! What we'll do this week! You know that everyone is waiting for our new cookie… It was going to be awesome, then this happened… oh Lord, help us…a…""Can you just shut up for a moment, Jane. I'm trying to think of something."They werwww.onedoor.cce sitting in their shop. When early morning Jane entered the shop and entered the kitchen she found something mysterious, and when she opened the cabinet… it was all upside down. Most of the things were missing, and when she found out that the new monthly cookie's secret ingredient is missing, she panicked and calle...
Seconds to Discourse
“I saw her. Getting in your car!”My eyes and blue-inked pen formed a frantic partnership to solidify every nuance of the situation into my worn notebook. Snowboarder’s posture as he leaned over the bar with palms flat on the surface. The tips of Employee’s fingers working around the rim of a glass. This was exactly the sort of scenario that often drew me to local spots before dawn. While most sane inpiduals snoozed through the subzero temperatures blowing through the valley, insomnia and my passion for writing compelled me to hunker down to possibly witness residual drama of long nights or ear...