The Lady in the Lake_Tapped For Error_7 Knights_Crab Soup
Catalog Guide:
The Lady in the Lake
I saw her- well, I think I did when I was twelve years old. Anything could have explained it, though, right? I mean, who can actually believe their mind at only twelve years of age? I was just starting puberty, small sprouts of hairs poking through the skin of my leg. High school was becoming a growing reality in my future. My friends were all starting to neglect pickup baseball games and late-night creature features for sitting around at Baby Bo’s Burgers and Soda to act like the older kids. I was in love with Cindy McArthur. In fact, that’s why I was there at Whispering Moon Lak...
Tapped For Error
His rosy-cheeked face peers at the bundle through an excitement induced fog, the thick lenses of his glasses magnifying his eyes to an impossible scale. Fading adrenaline lights his hickory smoke eyes, projecting his confidence to the corners of the room.“Well, that was fun and all… but now that we’ve had our laughs, we need to take it back.” Sweat plasters his snowflake hair to his scalp and he runs his fingers through it, raising it to stand on end.A carefully folded lump sits between us and ewww.onedoor.ccvery few moments he will tear his gaze away, resisting the temptation to see what is inside. His fin...
7 Knights
TW: violenceEmrys sat alongside five other knights, all of them knowing tonight would be their last alive.The flames of their campfire flickered in the wind. He pushed a log into the midst of it and listened to it crackle. The surrounding knights—the ones that could eat—picked bones out of river fish. Emrys dropped the corpse of a fish in the grass, grabbed a stick, and drew in the dirt.“One more time?” Bran asked.“Yeah,” Emrys said, nodding. He drew the village in three squares, sealing the exit points off with a thick line. They’d spent the morning moving furniture and bundles of wood to blo...
Crab Soup
My mother was stooped over the pot, stirring like a witch over her cauldron. She opened a can of crab meat and added it to the pot. The smell of the canned meat was putrid, but if it bothered her, she said nothing, and tossed the can away. In so many years she hadn’t changed at all. The lines on her face were a bit longer and there was less black in her hair. But the way she gripped the spoon, the neatness of the kitchen, and the tattered apron were the same image I had of her almost a decade ago. She saw me watching her and smiled , “ Almost ready,” she said, turning back to the monotonous st...