Influenced_The Ouija Board_The Midday Owl_A Knock at The Door
Catalog Guide:
Influenced
My art professor in college hated butterflies. She said they were basic and painless with nothing more than wings that could break when you touched them. If we were ever to paint them in a project for her class, we’d have to make them shriveled and gray. Those last two words started to make me think that I had made the wrong decision about college. I had thought it was nothing more than cardboard walls and brick buildings, holding its breath with purple lips. Those words also reminded me of my father’s pinched face when he told me I had two options. The first one, I thought, was to end up li...
The Ouija Board
Phoebe leaned over the table, forearms pressed to the wood, to whisper to Maxon, “Don’t tell Julia, because I know it was hard for her to find this place, and I definitely need the vacation, but this house is creepy.” Maxon widened his eyes, leaning towards her, “I know. The ceiling creaks so much, and I swear I heard someone knock on my door and, like, rattle the doorknob at three a.m. this morning, but neither of you were up.” “Wait, really? I-”“Hey guys,” Julia pushed open the bedroom door with her toe, a large brown box wrapped in her arms. Phoebe and Maxon pulled apart, plastering smiles...
The Midday Owl
Trigger Warning: Contemplation of suicide, explicit use of languagePreface: My short story below is a sort of twist to the given theme, wherein the 'recollection' of the character is bittersweet as opposed to mournful or depressing. Hopefully, it will perform well in the competition anyways :)Silence crept upon him, settled into the marrow of his aching bones. His fingers, bare to the frigid air, became bloodless under the fists in which they curled. He closed his eyes, saw still the glimmer of virgin snow behind the darkness of his lids. He wondered, upon the reopening of his eyes, if he shou...
A Knock at The Door
Margaret had left me some time ago. That very day I closed all the curtains and kept the lights out. I stopped going out. I ate mostly from the pantry, when I did eat. I raided the wine cellar with regularity, yet sewww.onedoor.ccemed to make no dent in it. The notices in the mail had no effect on me. I let them pile and overfill and the rain wash them out and make a carpet of them on the first stoop. And I waited. I waited for her to return for her things. Then I heard a knock at the door. It was tough breaking up the basement floor. I had the sledge hammer but nothing for a spike to pound on. I found ...