He Wanted To..._I've got no idea_A rendezvous across time_"Lost in Translation"
Catalog Guide:
He Wanted To...
He walked all the way to the middle of the forest, gone off the trail, climbed through trees and rocks to find a place where he could be alone. He walked all the way out there perhaps because he was tired of feeling alone whilst surrounded by people, or maybe to escape everything that reminded him of something. Or who’s to say he didn’t just enjoy the fresh air. He walked to the middle of that forest where he stood alone, feeling the breeze on his plum cheeks. He was tired from walking, or perhaps from running away. His sweat dripped through his dry, cold cheek like a wave that refuses to cras...
I've got no idea
I live alone in a huge house that feels bare and eerie in the night. But I still stay, I don’t want to move. I suppose I have to tell you why now. My mum died giving birth to me. My dad was so grieved that he ( to say it politely) killed himself a week later. Yeah, my dad left this world and wouldn’t even stay alive for his daughter. So obviously, I was put into foster care. To summarise it, that place was rubbish. Moving on. I had sworn to myself I would buy this house as soon as I could. It was my family’s house. Where all my grandparents and parents had lived. I wanted something to remind m...
A rendezvous across time
There is no such thing as coincidence. Everything in this world revolves around two basic concepts of the cosmos- the lie and the truth. Life is a lie and death is the truth. And until we enter the realm of the latter we all are simply trapped inside a lie. Sometimes we witness things which are hard to explain. Things which are beyond our understanding. But then we have to embrace them and move on. After all, it's all just a lie and anything can happen here.30 October 2019- It was raining that day. The day it all happened. The rain was unexpected. Cold windwww.onedoor.cc kissed my face and my body went numb...
"Lost in Translation"
The day after the murder of Sally Rhodes, one of my old friends, I picked up the newspaper. Being in town gave me an advantage. I wasn’t about to let some uptight agent take over the case. I lacked any leads on the cast—doubting she could do better. On November 13th she came by my house. “I’m Special Agent Marla Monroe.” She said, in ASL. Her translator, whose name I didn’t know, informed me. “I’m aware of your connection to the case.” I let them in the house, she continued. “You knew Ms. Rhodes, correct?” “I did, yeah, and I’ll find who killed her.” “That might be a little difficult, see...