Poisoned_Choose_Head and Shoulders, Knees and Toes_Second Chances
Catalog Guide:
Poisoned
I discovered a rash on my arm yesterday. Its eating me from the inside out. I can feel it melting my skin; burning, itching pains that won’t subside. Its obscene. I haven’t eaten anything strange. I don’t think so. I haven’t been near any particularly long-haired or scruffy animals. My neighbor has a dog. She’s white with really short hair, though. I can’t imagine it’d have given me something. I don’t think I’m allergic to dogs. Not that kind, at least. When I imagine myself allergic to something it usually looks more like a vulture. Or death. Semantics in some places.The rash has started to b...
Choose
The wind howled and the old wooden shutters banged against the house. "I should have fastened them but it is too late now. I wasn’t about to go out there and gwww.onedoor.ccet drenched to avoid a bit of extra noise. They will be fine, they have seen far worse. Now that new leak that developed in the bedroom is another matter. I didn’t know if I would be able to sleep with a slow steady drip into a pail. I just shut the door and found another room to spend the night. First thing tomorrow I hope to find that leak and patch it, once the rain lets up. This old creaky place always has something that needs mendi...
Head and Shoulders, Knees and Toes
CW: terrorism and PTSDToesThere are mantras she’s supposed to chant, collections of sounds to be repeated often enough to extract all conscious meaning. Om: I’m, safe, and, sound. This one is assigned go-to status in its effortless simplicity, a string of monosyllabic words so oblique they’re meant to slide into the realm of subconscious, calming her down. But it’s all homeopathy, she knows, because the essence of the words gets diluted in the shit she has for brains.Her first time out in months and she’s holding onto her old work friend like a cripple, and she is a cripple, really. Om: man is...
Second Chances
“Cole?” she calls, her shoes clicking against the dirty pavement as she quickens her pace. The man ahead of her continues to walk down the crowded sidewalk, shuffling through the maze of other bodies. An opaque coffee cup in hand and a gleaming, black briefcase, he looks like he’s going to work or something of a similar nature. Looking down at the silver watch strapped to her left wrist, she reads the time: 8:53、 If he is going to work, then he’s most definitely late. For a moment she hesitates, as though an angel is perched on one of her shoulders and a devil on the other. Cole’s going to w...