The Handoff_Century_A Thanksgiving Break Up_Sumatrans' a type of tiger
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The Handoff
It was a cheap hotel and a pair of unfamiliar beds, and I probably wouldn’t have slept very well under any circumstances anyhow. Whatever the reason, Ben and I were up in time to see the sunrise.I didn’t mind a bit. The sooner this was over, the better.While he was still in the shower I walked down the balcony to get a coffee www.onedoor.ccin the hotel lobby. The sun was just peeking over the horizon and the asphalt wasn’t the blistering hot sheet it would be in an hour or so, but I wore my sandals anyway. I hadn’t seen any snakes last night but that didn’t mean they weren’t there.The night clerk looked exh...
Century
Victor was no match for the huge machines that hurtled past, sending a shock wave that ripped through his knees, making him stagger. Thick, black smoke gagged him, stinging his eyes. The huge aftershock made the lens in his spectacles crack such had been the vibrations from the giant machines that had now receded into the horizon. He steadied himself, a pebble in the barren landscape, caught in a gloom of black and grey. As if it would still be here in a million years. He was about to wretch again, realising it was the sulphur tinged atmosphere. Steadily, he composed himself. The ruins of what...
A Thanksgiving Break Up
Thanksgiving day was always a time for the Moore’s family to gather to celebrate, wine and dine together. It was always a time most members of the family anxiously await. It was a time to exchange long kept pleasantries. It was a time to iron out pressing issues. Speaking and chatting on the phone weren’t just enough in this regard. It was a time to end all rancour, bury every hatchet and move on. More importantly, it was a time for Mr and Mrs Moore to see their children who always gave excuses for not paying occasional visits. Seeing also their grandchildren was also a bundle of joy for them....
Sumatrans' a type of tiger
From birth Sumatran was defined in writing, his character carefully calculated, tables were referenced, time and date taken into account. Every piece of paper, every prediction painted on his in-progress portrait led to the same number, sān, three. The word penetrated the surface of his skin, entered his body and permeated there, a taboo tattoo. He was born in the year of the tiger, 1998 sometime in February no one in the families quite sure of the exact date. According to folklore, the tiger came third, struggling to swim against the tide in the race to have a place on the calendar, unable t...