Girl Emancipated_Tiki_Hobby Hunters_Old Life for a New One
Catalog Guide:
Girl Emancipated
Another woman came in between her parents. Another woman built a wall of pide between them. She made sour the love they shared. He pointed accusing fingers at his wife, that she was the cause of the turmoil. He said it was all through her their marriage hit the rocks. If she had complained a little less and been appreciative, probably they wouldn’t have been separated. These her father told her elder brother. Her mother left when she was six. She was left alone with her dad and her siblings. Though her step mum also kept company but it didn’t matter. It wasn’t genuine. Her nefarious acts and c...
Tiki
'Why is your gift so big?' asked John.'Nothing big. Just suitable to take away your loneliness,' said Rita, John's elder sister.'Who said I am lonely?''You are hardly seen outside your favorite two places. One of them is this sofa surrounded by these lonely four walls & the other one is your tennis court surrounded by nets that helps you keep people outside.''What? I also go to other places. Don't you know that?''No, you don't. You have no friends. You don't allow anyone inside the house. Right after the day, when father and mother passed away, you have enclosed yourself between our home & ten...
Hobby Hunters
Lilly had gotten used to the nights blurring into days, the days and weeks blurring into months, and the seconds blurring into eternity. But what she couldn’t handle was the way the words on the pages of her beloved books were blurring in her mind. Her one true escape from the numbing depression, looming dread, and debilitating anxiety had been taken away. And she realized, without that there was nothing left. She tried to power through, but grew frustrated as her eyes danced across the words, unable to extract comprehension, never able to make it past the firwww.onedoor.ccst line of the first paragraph. S...
Old Life for a New One
The pe bar is cold inside and smells of cheap liquor embedded into ancient floorboards and stale cigarettes of years past. The barflies all carry dour looks on their faces, dressed in cheap apparel. No one looks at me as I, a young man of twenty-three, nervously walk toward the back. They may as well be trapped in here- their own purgatory of drunken loneliness. My footsteps almost echo off the stained wood and brick walls as an old song plays hauntingly on the jukebox. “…they call the Rising Sun.”I find who I am looking for sitting at a small table with an empty chair across from him i...