Listen In_Bit Uncomfortable_Who is on the Stage_An Angel With a Broken Wing
Catalog Guide:
Listen In
“Listen,” Vicky said. The ultrasound technician moved the probe back and forth across Vicky’s abdomen searching the echoes for signs of life. The sonographer noted how calm Vicky was, focused even. Then she looked at Chad and saw the nervous wreck with a slight hint of perspiration peeking through his immaculately pressed white designer button down shirt. When the first THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP came rapid fire out of the speakers, he nearly dropped the light ring and microphone. “O-M-G! Isn’t that the most adorable sound you’ve ever heard?www.onedoor.cc” Vicky asked no one in particular and everyone watching...
Bit Uncomfortable
I knocked loudly. I knocked loudly again, like a cops knock. The seedy little man, behind the door, told me that he'd "have the money," in an hour. Id been here twice already,and I told him that this was the "last trip," I was going to make to him, for our clubs money. I was warranted the collector, in our clubs, goings ons. We didn't mind, lending our money but, if you didn't pay on time, there would be taxes. If you didn't pay the taxes, there would be broken legs. This guy was at the start paying taxes stage. We wanted our money back with interest, and we wanted the late fee.The skinny litt...
Who is on the Stage
-You’ll never know unless you try it. And don’t worry, everything will be fine.It was around 5 pm when they stopped in front of the building with a huge banner hanging on the door which says "Tenth Literacy Competition". The woman in the driver's seat checked her hair and make-up after she finished talking to her daughter and got out of the car. She was wearing an orange suit that she had made with her monthly salary. She tidied up her slightly wrinkled skirt and straightened her back. Her husband also got off and was chatting with the owner of the car right next to his. The only person who di...
An Angel With a Broken Wing
Mickey “Iceman” Monchelli was a hitman by trade, but most in the rundown Bronx neighborhood knew him as Mickey the florist. Icky Taborinni walked into his shop wearing a cheap suit and his hair slicked back by a handful of hair jell which was his trademark along with a scar that ran from his throat to his jaw. It made his face, that was once perfectly asymmetrical, a mass of facial scars that included a creepy, crooked smile. “Why are you here?” Mickey closed his eyes and put both his hands on the counter. “Big Gino is needing your services.” Icky put an envelope on the counter in front of Mi...