Burned To Regret_Meramec_S.A.D._Brown
Catalog Guide:
Burned To Regret
The flames roared around me as my lungs fought against the smoke penetrating my air ways. I coughed into my hands, my blistering, burned hands, as pieces of spittle flew through my cracked lips. I peered through the thickening smoke, the walls around me blacked and broke, thick smoldering pieces falling around my crouched body.Ember sparks flew with each piece that cracked against the floor. In this horrible moment, I was thankful I had shaved my head two nights ago. The idea of my skull burning by now made my heart skip a beat. I shook my head to clear the thoughts.My eyes burned as the dry...
Meramec
“You wanna do something fun?” I looked up at Janie, red, slick hands wiping the jean windshield that was my narrow thighs. I could see the heave in my chest, feel the bones rattling in my neck. Her eyes were bright and crazed, and standing up at this moment felt like lifting a car. Still, I stood.“Something fun, huh? More fun than this?”I gestured to my torso. The broken skin mixed with torn fabric and blood reminded me of the inside of a strawberry danish. Talk about taking a bite out of life. I could sense her resolve, and while not so much as glancing down at her well-done friend, she turn...
S.A.D.
S.A.D. Celeste and Koen Tazro sat placidly in the quiet darkness, waiting for the lights to return in the movie theatre as the credits slowly descended on the spacious screen. “What did you think about it?” Koen asked. “I really liked it,” Celeste answered. “What about you?” Patrons passed by on both sides of them, murmuring their opinions of what they just saw. “I liked it too,” said Koen. “The acting was excellent, the action believable, and it was decidedly cerebral.” Celeste gently nodded, slipped her handbag over her shoulder. “R...
Brown
Warning: This story handles themes of self-harm, mental illness, and suicide.I was scared of hallways. I was scared of hallways, doors, corners and the tiny boxes pretty girls lived in. I was scared of being so afraid that in my pain I would want to hurt. It's a comfortability of mine. When you live with so many rooms, stairwells and end credit scenes you learn the best way to cope with your pain is through more pain. While I've heard the fabled tales of girls with razors, and boys with bulimia, I found it quite pleasing to hurt myself with food. Overeating was the pain, and self-starvation wa...