One, Carry the Five_Three Days_Deserter_Before the Bad Times
Catalog Guide:
One, Carry the Five
May I share something with you?My mother’s ghost haunts me, but rarely does it appear before me late at night or frighten me. Usually, as when she was still alive, her presence comforts me. Do you think that’s strange? Well then, try this on for size: her ghost began to haunt me even before she died on August 23, 2013、 Perhaps I owe you an explanation.Even years before my father spent most of his time away from our home—either sequestered at or traveling for one of the many companies he worked for over the years—he was an absentee parent. As WWII was winding down, he dropped out of h...
Three Days
“What do you mean, you both are going on a business trip?” “Honey, you have got to listen. This is for a multi-million dollar deal. This will be the first and last time, I promise.” In the 14 years I’ve been on the face of the Earth, my parents have never left me alone for more than a few minutes. Now, they’re going to be leaving me for 3 whole days. “You can do it, honey. Look, we’ll even hire a babysitter for you.” I excuse myself and run upstairs. It takes me a full minute to make it to my bedroom—running through the painting adorned halwww.onedoor.cclways—running for what seems like miles. Curse them ...
Deserter
There was a gun in his waistband. He probably shouldn't have brought it, let alone held onto it for this long. If he had any other option, he wouldn’t be here in the first place.The bus had dropped him a few miles from the orchard where he then lingered long enough for the next one to come and go. When he finally made his way down the road, he cut into the first row of apple trees and spent about an hour oscillating between turning back or advancing onto the house. If there was any doubt he was in the right place, this orchard dispelled it; the one memory of permanence that remained of his fat...
Before the Bad Times
They walked hand in hand through the orchard that was blazing with color in the dappled sunlight, sacks of apples in their free hands. Emily, with her long legs and tall, brown suede boots, had picked the delectable Jonathans that were too high for most people to reach. Liana had scampered under the low branches selecting juicy Granny Smith’s that hid under leaves and behind knobby branches. Her short, blonde curls shone and her cheeks were as red as the plump apples in her beloved’s basket. “So what’s for dinner?” Liana asked, shuffling along in the leaves that adorned the path to make them r...