Bobby Trap_The Act_Once a Party Pooper_Corporate Shackles
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Bobby Trap
Sinarta is my hometown. It is a small town on a hill that overlooks the Grange Valley on one side and Lake Naples on the other. On the shores of the lake are flower plantations. Sometimes a cool morning breeze carries the scent of myriad flowers to the inhabitants of Sinarta.It has often been said that the day Bobby came to town, a jasmine-scented breeze was blowing from the lakeside. It was a cold day in February. Most people were indoors, watching Netflix and drinking hot fluids. Anyone who had business to do outdoors was heavily clad in jackets and trenchcoats and sweaters and scarves and g...
The Act
I can’t go on. I can feel my breath slipping away as my legs hit the ground. I can’t contain it. My head is pounding and every bone in my body is telling me to stop. I don’t. I can’t. My arm shines red under the sun as my sunburn and peeling skin remains out for everyone to see. Except that doesn’t matter. Because I am completely alone. The heat is beginning to sting as sweat finds its way into my eyes. I’m almost there. I collapse onto a rock unable to move a single muscle. I carry a small backpack containing only the bare necessities. A water filter, a water bottle, one pair of clothes, a ...
Once a Party Pooper
Sally never felt like going to a party, but once she actually got there she was fine. Well the definition of ‘fine’ is ‘satisfactory, acceptable, good enough, all right’ – all of which are true but it would be a treat for everyone if Sally’s demeanour got into the ‘happy, joyful, merry’ category! It was the same every time and although friends and family got used to listening to her, they didn’t really enjoy it! “I don’t want to go” she whined. “Fine, don’t go because I am truly fed up of listening to you - if you really don’t want to then stay at home. I mean it is only your best friend’s ‘bi...
Corporate Shackles
I sit with my chin on the steering wheel and watch the stars wink out over the office, slowly stifled by sly hues of violet and then suddenly smothered by angry slashes of pink that just as quickly fade into pale swaths of blues and golds.I love my job. I love my job.I hate my job. Shit. The truth creeps into my morning monologue yet again. I’m parked in front of the squat brown building where my dreams are dashed day-in and day-out against the poster-slathered walls, where my creativity is cursed to curdle in the confines of an airless grey cubicle, where my jaw-clenching masquerade of polite...