One Rainy Night_A Bus Ride_Judgement Day_Pavarotti Among the Pipes
Catalog Guide:
One Rainy Night
Rain pounded against the window panes in a steady rhythm. Fractured beams of light from the streetlamps filtered through the drops, casting tiny streaks of rainbow light across the pages of Marissa’s book. She sighed contentedly, wrapping her oversized blue sweater closer around her body to ward off the slight chill of the evening. In her cocoon of checkered fuzzy blankets, a steaming cup of Earl Grey tea sending its soothing scent into the air, she www.onedoor.ccfelt safe. The demands of working forty hours a week at the local Walmart fell away. Thursday nights were always her favorite time of the week: th...
A Bus Ride
“Good morning.” The greeting jolts me upright from where I sit on the bus with headphones in. It’s not directed to me, I realize, as I observe an older man exchanging nods with a elderly woman coming aboard. He holds a leather briefcase in one hand and a bus pole in the other, moving as he speaks to make room for her passing. Feeling slightly embarrassed, I relax back into my seat. The dull rumble of wheels and engine sound beneath me. The music is to help me think. A writer for the quasi-newspaper The Point, I’ve been assigned to write about beauty. That’s it. In some cases, the lack of instr...
Judgement Day
She considered herself lucky. She had a home, two healthy sons, a job, smattering of decent friends here in the Holy City and from whence she came.By most accounts she was not lacking in basic needs, but her joints and painful gait gave a warning, a tell-tale sign that she was lacking in vitamins and in self-love - two very necessary features for a healthy life. Her hair shed as well, blond strings that attached themselves to bedding, throw pillows, and leftovers on plastic plates. She ate from plastic - less fuss, less mess, less dishes to wash. But she washed the plastic anyway. Throwing out...
Pavarotti Among the Pipes
The packed-to-bursting car gave a farewell toot, signaling the start of the annual family camping trip. The ancient Buick Century, top-heavy with its 4-bike roof rack, began cautiously backing out of the driveway. Relief started to spread through Tim, who stood on the front steps, waving good-bye—and good riddance—to his parents and younger siblings. The Buick lurched to a halt. “Whoops, footwear!” Mom hollered from an open window. The youngest leapt from the teetering car, ran into the house, and emerged, holding water shoes aloft in triumph. The cautious back-up started again. Leaving for ca...