The Entry Hall Tile_THE EAR_Agent 54_Curiosity Almost Killed The Cat
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The Entry Hall Tile
Era sat at the kitchen table, tapping her fingers impatiently against the wood. Cracks of lightning. The pounding of thunder. Raindrop’s pitter-patter. It could all be heard outside the walls of her home. A pot of soup grew cold on the stovetop, yet she just sat there. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Pa-da-dump, Pa-da-dump was the sound her roughly bitten nails made on the wood while the raindrops hurled themselves onto the roof above. Era began tapping her heels anxiously against the floor as her eyes stared there, glued on her cell phone that sat next to her on the kitchen table. It lay screen-up...
THE EAR
THE EAR The people of the village where Alexander lived, with her mother and her grandparents, had always called him the Prince, and he had never been able to understand why. He for himself was a shepherd, who every day took his flock of sheep to pasture. Alexander liked his life as a shepherd, and indeed life was pleasant among those mountains upon which you could see the clouds to rest_, and those green plaines crossed by gushing streams ( brooks) where the silver-blue water flowed as if it sang, as if it skipped with joy. Alexander had not been at all sorry to have to leave the school w...
Agent 54
The Assassin:The broken streetlight provided ample cover from curtain twitchers. He was at home in the shadows but that didn’t make the winter chill any less biting. A blue sedan pulled up across the street. A car he recognised as belonging to his mark. The file had been sparse this time, meaning he had to tail this one for weeks. At least all the hours invested meant that he knew Henry Allan and his wife quite well. Not that there was much to know. The couple went to work and came home. Bridge on Fridays. Dinner at his mothers on Sundays. No kids. Very few friends. It wasn’t his job to questi...
Curiosity Almost Killed The Cat
Walking in the dark is scary. I don't like how the entity distorts your place. And how the encompassing sounds wash out by my heartbeat. It's disconcerting. To know how small I am in the grand scheme of things. How lost I can be but how natural it can feel too. But there's this feeling of being watched that makes me feel like prey, like a shining fish circled by vultures. I walk faster, feel the ground harden beneath my step, and the wind sharpens. The cutting air is refreshing; it invigorates me to carry on, that it's working. I don't actually know if I'm being watched, but I can sense it. I ...www.onedoor.cc