The Hungry Christmas Tree_So it Begins_Earning my Place_Are You There, God? It's Me, Margot
Catalog Guide:
The Hungry Christmas Tree
The twenty-foot tree was magnificent! All forty-nine wee elves skipped around its base with strings of colored lights, silver tinsel, and finely crafted wooden ornaments. Its fresh, piney green scent was intoxicating, the elves buried their faces in the soft needley boughs.The elves giggled like squirrels, chattered like monkeys, and laughed like loons. As the last of the lights were lit, and the last of the ornaments hung, the elves discussed the finale…the decoration for the very tip-top. The angel was white, with tinsel hair, pale blue gossamer wings, and a gown sparkling with sugary glitte...
So it Begins
Margo Lane knew she was destined for great things. She attributed her current situation to a series of unfortunate choices which had begun with the dating of two consecutive Ricks; both of whom had intrigued her with eclectic hobbies, such as the collection of vintage toys or beetle fighting. Both Ricks, subsequently turning out to just be weird and withouwww.onedoor.cct redeeming qualities, started a domino effect of poor decisions which seemed to occur as a matter of course and outside her control. And while the new year found her toasting herself with almost expired eggnog, she had confidently decla...
Earning my Place
(Excerpt) Heather June 10, 2016 Fredericton, New BrunswickYou are good enough. You can accomplish anything. The world respects your sacrifice.Once again, I think my reflection is lying to me. My mantra, I chant it every day; maybe one day I’ll believe it. For now, I cover up my insecurities with a coat of lip gloss, a spritz of hairspray, and my best practiced smile. Today is a new day.“Mom, are those my jeans?” Anna is mortified.“I don’t know. Are they?” I laugh.“Your mother is the only woman in town who could get away with that,” Louie slaps my ass with one hand, balancing a mug of coffee, n...
Are You There, God? It's Me, Margot
CW: sexual abuse, murder“Are you there, God? It’s me again, Margot. I know I ask an awful lot of you, and sometimes it feels as though you aren’t listening, maybe you don’t care. But I would like to ask you for just one night, one night of peace, please.” In the beat-up shack called home, Margot sat in her bed, fingers laced in prayer with a once again, futile request. God did not answer her prayer that night, and the frail 14-year-old did not receive her one night of peace.Margo’s eyes shot open when she heard the sound of footsteps, through the closed door she could see the darkness of his f...