One Father, One Son_The cookie killer_Winter Never Left_Titular Redundancy
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One Father, One Son
One Father, One SonIt was late spring in the city – one of those days, when both sunshine and light rain are received with joy and, let’s say, with hope. It was an early afternoon – lunchtime in downtown: hugs and handshakes, half-buttoned shirts, a sip of lemonade from the decanter. Chair legs squeaking, silverware clattering, the humming of talk. Lunch specials on the table, pages rustling – people devouring pastas, meats, and soups so intently, as if the meal were altogether a detective novel. Lunchtime was booked for the dates that were not exciting enough to spend an evening with, but, p...
The cookie killer
It was a warm and sunny day, I was sitting on the porch swing with Jane. Jane was talking about her new cookie exchange, and how her parents were on a five day trip to Toledo. I had no idea what was coming next.We walked to school together. It was a normal day, we went to math, science, women’s studies, then lunch. After school I went to Jane's house to make the cookies. “Why is the cookie dough red?” I said. I had a hint of suspicion in my voice.“We make this friendship work by trusting each other, don’t question me.” Jane said, with annoyance creeping up on her.“Ok, ok” I said. I could not ...
Winter Never Left
[CW: blood/death]“I feel alive.”I looked over at her, and couldn’t help scoffing, “Do you?” If she noticed my derisive tone, she didn’t say anything. Instead, she smiled, eyes closing shut as she relaxed against the sand. The water lapped at our feet—an icy rush that sent goosebumps up my legs. The ocean had yet to match the spring breeze. It stung. It was nothing but a reminder that we hadn’t made it out of winter’s grasp, though it was easy to ignore with the warmth all around me. Warmth like Cassie telling me she feels alive as she bleeds out beside me. Warmth like the blood pooling from my...
Titular Redundancy
There is a knock on the door. It is the eighth time somebody has knocked on his door today, which is more activity than the door had seen in the entire previous year. Jimbo does not consider answering it, not even a little bit. It would be the same intrusion as all the others, a dire warning to evacuate his home before things outside get seriously high strung. Not only does he have nowhere else he can possibly go, he doesn't want to leave. He plans to sit right here in front of his laptop, writing. If the ship goes down, he will happily go down with it.Eventually the knocking ceases and a voic...