Nuts and Bolts_The death of a siren_Atlantis_Remnants of a Simple Life
Catalog Guide:
Nuts and Bolts
The screaming was so loud that the sound pushed through the summer symphony of lawnmowers and barking dogs like a tyrant set on ruining the day. A few children squealed nearby as they burst through a sprinkler stream. But there was no mistaking it. Claire was screaming in pain. Claire was screaming because she was dying. Summer was reaching a peak and would now plateau steadily with a consistent dole of eighty-degree temperatures. Pools were open, front yards were cwww.onedoor.ccut weekly, and the ice cream man was in full swing. Tyler was making his way down to the creek to get some fishing in before Mik...
The death of a siren
Tw: Dark thoughts and violenceShips at sea sink in deep, siren songs carry the weight of a thousand men into the dark.I step out, emerging from the sea. Foot by foot. The veil of water is crystal, with waves rolling over each other playfully like children enjoying nature’s gifts. Bubbles rising to the top to froth and look like soft cotton. I can see everything from here. Sun embracing my body, tingling on my limbs and warming them up. I haven’t seen colour like this in years, the shades of the sand, the undertones of my skin, the birds above me look like oil paintings. I realise I ha...
Atlantis
“I thought I’d find you here.”His words echoed in the empty studio, bouncing off the barred walls until they reached where I stood with my knees bent, exasperated. I was pretty sure the gel I’d put in my hair was far gone as it mixed with my sweat. However, I’d promised myself, and Jasmine, that I would finally get this stupid petit allegro combination right; especially considering how determined the other dancers were to poke fun at me any chance they got. I’m sure most of them assumed I’d drop the class by now—but I hadn’t. And maybe a part of the reason was him.“Really?” I retorted. “What ...
Remnants of a Simple Life
John is currently reclining on a stiff modern couch. The apartment walls are bare and there's a sterile scentless scent. He recalls the home he grew up in, the distinct smell of life, and the wooden walls covered with memorabilia, amateur drawings, pictures of cats and dogs. Against the unpainted concrete wall there's a Rothko, depicting the essence of a sunset- stripped of its unnecessary details.John was only 16 years old when he decided to move into the city. He saw the life of his father, his grandfather and great grandfather. Generations of farmers that only knew how to work with their ha...