Thirst of Competition_Just a Few Questions_Machines_The Next Time
Catalog Guide:
Thirst of Competition
I had been staring www.onedoor.ccat the screen for hours. TAKE A SNIPPET. MAKE IT SLOW. MAKE IT DIFFERENT. EXPERIMENT. My professor’s instructions. Vague. Embarrassingly difficult. If I didn’t pass this assignment I’d lose out on the opportunity of my dreams. Between Luis and I, only one of us could fill the empty spot at the most prestigious writing conference in New York City. And he was a far more productive writer than I was.I hadn’t changed a thing about the snippet in my novel. It’s an important turning point, a heart-wrenching death. I blinked. The glare of the computer screen had dried out my eyes. ...
Just a Few Questions
Detective Fraser needed this break. The murderer hadn’t left any fingerprints, any DNA, or anything concrete enough to know where to start. The killer used a 9mm handgun, but there was nothing else to go off of aside from some footprints. The boyfriend was working a night shift when it happened, he’s cleared. There was a suspect, and he did have a 9mm handgun registered to him, with a good lawyer, it wouldn’t be enough to book him. But the killer made a dumb mistake, his luck was about to run out.Luck had been a Lady towards one Logan Moore. He’d gotten a promotion last month, and to celebrat...
Machines
TW: terrorism Many might say I have lost my way but it is those who say that, who have lost their way. Our city neighborhood is changing because of them. Because they lost their way. My journal entries are my place of happiness. I write the good old days long before Bill Gates and Jeff Bezos. The time when we were all safe. The only millionaires were sawmill operators, one named Henry Yesler. He was one of the pioneers of the city and built what became the city’s first steam-powered sawmill. People looked up to him and made him the city’s 7th and 15th mayor. He was truly an inspirational inpi...
The Next Time
“The next time she says that, I’m going to…” How many times have I said that? And then what? Usually nothing. I’m a coward, not because I want to be, but because I have been taught to be. Not just by my parents, but teachers, telephone solicitors, nearly anyone in authority. I am afraid of being embarrassed, humiliated, made to feel as though being ineffectual, is what I should emulate. I was encouraged to be no more, no less, than that opaque color on the wall that refuses to make people wither, blush, or pretend to fade. I was having a discussion just the other day, when this guy gets off h...