The Prodigal Daughter_The Stew's Real Good, Isn't it?_If Shadows Had Names_Yolo
Catalog Guide:
The Prodigal Daughter
I stared at the mirror. This couldn’t be the same face that had stared back at me for 26 years. Just a few days ago, it was the face of a young professional, content at home with her crime dramas on tv and a latte in her hand. Now, this same face was the granddaughter of a biblical figure who ruled Hell, daughter to a demon, kidnapped by some 500-year-old serial killer, and family to a plethora of snake people. No way we were the same person. I looked away, not sure what I was looking at anymore. Dinner had been called and it was time to leave this room she had so graciously given me. My p...
The Stew's Real Good, Isn't it?
Heavy rain rattled against the windows and loud thunder shook the house from within. A cottage owww.onedoor.ccut of the many in this small town in the middle of the forest. This house belonged to the Rockwells. Jack Rockwell set the table while his wife stirred the stew. It was dinner time and their two boys weren’t home from playing yet. The mother wasn’t pleased. She had prepared their favorite beef stew.There were three knocks on the door, which meant it was the kids. Living in a community in the middle of the forest where three murders had been committed not so long ago demanded them to practice safet...
If Shadows Had Names
They were surrounded. The loud rumble and impending darkness inched closer with every second. The trio did their best to bring their best fighting stance, fists drawn and swords out, but they did not hold out much hope. There was no way any sword, gun, or strategic combat plan could fight the thick black fog that was about to swallow them into an unknown territory. It was inches away from them now, slowly pulling them in the dark as they thrashed and kicked with all of their might, but it was no use as it started to consume them and call to them and-“Kiera!” Someone called above the dark fog t...
Yolo
“This was the greatest performance of my life. Every ounce of me was left on that stage tonight. The heart wrenching grief, the tearful monologue, the comedic timing in the second act. The standing ovation during final bows. They could not get enough. Bravo! Bravo to me! After tonight, this town will know my name. By tomorrow, the country; by the end of the week, the world. Accolades for my performance will come in messages, flowers, phone calls, and then the awards. (“Bravo Yolanda!” “Well done Yolanda!” “Your best performance yet!”) I’ll have to hire security guards just to be able to walk ...