Ivy Rose_I'm crying inside._Tick-Tock. Tick-Tock._Loan Shark
Catalog Guide:
Ivy Rose
TW: Mention of abortion. "It was the seventies!" Rose squawked, her hackles rising.All Ivy wanted was an easy answer. An easy answer to a simple question so she could finish the assignment and get back to her life.But now, Rose and Ivy glared at each other from across the kitchen table, claws out. Marilyn, not at all prepared for the role of mediator, slunk toward the archway that led away from the battleground and into the safety of the living room."Mom!" Ivy whined. "Are you hearing this?" Rose swivelled her chair to face her daughter. "Yes, Marilyn. Tell us how you're such a liberal."Maril...
I'm crying inside.
I’m crying inside. That’s the title of the story and that’s how I’ve felt for a long time. I’m a waiter at this dead beat restaurant in this bustling city. Ironic that we have barely anyone who enter our restaurant; but I don’t blame them because I wouldn’t too. My uncle is in charge of this restaurant and there was a day when he told me to stand at the opening doors with some flyers.I told him “Do I really have to? Barely anyone wants to enter our restaurant. It’s so old and kinda musty herewww.onedoor.cc. Besides, everybody’s going to the mall up the street. There’s like burger, fries. A freaking triple b...
Tick-Tock. Tick-Tock.
Cold. With arms wrapped tight about my torso, I attempt to hide the shivers. But I ask myself in the silence of the waiting room, am I shivering from the cold or from nerves? Glancing down, I gawk at the gooseflesh. My eye catches the state of my appearance. At this, I ponder my choice of t-shirt. Wrinkled, a coffee stain near the waistline. When did that happen, I wonder. A sweatshirt would have been better. Or perhaps a more professional outfit to cut down this overwhelming sense of stigma? Questions flood my mind. Am I sweating? Why am I sweating if I’m this cold? Do I have a fever? Are my ...
Loan Shark
Greg always remembered the first time he saw her. Entranced by her eyes. Hypnotised by her grace. Meg was a beauty to his grey eyes. They’d both lost teeth in the many years since he’d first seen her. Her furious majesty had not diminished in all those years.He’d been a deliveryman, running from a truck to front doors and back for years. He’d been a hotelier, starting with the big house he’d inherited from his grandmother. He’d been an auctioneer, selling properties for a cut of the cash.Meg had never left his mind.She was no cheap lady. Only the best home would do for her. She was a swimmer. ...