DUO PURPOSE KNIFE_Heart Song_Stephen Oracle Salis_Grateful
Catalog Guide:
DUO PURPOSE KNIFE
Murray is watching the shopping channel. An exclusive collection of knives is being sold. It is called, “The Doug Smith Collection”. There are only 15,000 units being sold. Murray goes to his computer and goes through the procedure of ordering one to be delivered to his home.After one month, a package arrives in the mail. When he opens it, he finds the knife that he ordered in it. He carefully inspects it. He notices that there are digits on the handle. The digits read: “10,045”. He knows that means it is the 10,045th unit produced of only 15,000 total units produced. He rubs his hands in glee...
Heart Song
CW: mention of deathHeartSong Marci’s pulse hammers in her throat — WHOOMPwhoomp! WHOOMPwhoomp! WHOOMPwhoomp! — so fervently that it’s painful. After one sharp intake, her breath catches in her throat so she can’t speak. Can’t swallow.Her knuckles are white, one hand gripping Aaron’s and the other clenched on her lap. Had they heard correctly?Distantly, through layers of cotton batting in her head, Aaron’s question filters.“She - she has… what?” His voice is hoarse, ragged.Dr. Greenberg repeats, gently, what they hoped they hadn’t heard.❤️
Stephen Oracle Salis
This story implies death of many kinds and abuse. Discretion advised. “It’s mine, and you can’t have it!” May screeched, pulling the toy away from me. Her grubby hands yanked the stuffed dog back into her clutch. “It used to be mine! I don’t want you to get it dirty!” I protested. I had fond memories of that dog. His name was Rusty, and he protected me from my nightmares as a child. Mom says I don’t need to sleep with a toy now that I’m ten. I still have nightmares, but I’ve learned not to scream and cry. I don’t mind letting May have it now that I can’t use it. But I don’t want her Cheeto han...
Grateful
My hand trembled as I turned the key to our apartment. I stepped over the threshold cautiously, my breath caught in my chest. My mother’s feet tapped behind me, and I heard her click the door behind us. The sound only intensified the sensation of being zipped in a time capsule, deprived of oxygen. My coffee mug was still sitting on the island that separated the kitchen from our living room. It was white, with playful gold lettering that spelled “grateful”. That mug once brought me a sense of peace, but seeing it now only brought knots to my stomach. It was still filled to thewww.onedoor.cc brim with murky b...