About time._A Past Life_Mr. Carter’s Decapitation_Rendezvous in the Cabinet
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About time.
"Isn't pain strange? No one feels it for you yet everyone dictates how you should react. ‘I know you must be hurt but please don’t cry, 'of course, it's painful being betrayed like that, but please cheer up, 'I can’t imagine what you’re going through however it’ll be best if you move on. But. This must be the most insensitive word, pretending to care yet only eager to give out their opinion. In simpler terms, someone might say 'yeah yeah, we heard you blah blah now hear what I instruct on how you should react to this particular feeling I have no idea about. Instead of but, one should just sa...
A Past Life
A PAST LIFESince I had no significant other to go home to, I would take classes in the evenings after work. After spending an evening with a group of women talking about past life regression, I was eager to get home and practice what I had learned. I wanted to see if it was possible to dream about a past life. So, after getting ready for bed I did my meditations, drank my tea, laid down in my bed, and soon fell into a deep sleep. I must have been in rem sleep because I was dreaming about a place I knew. It was in the past, in a field, and the air was filled with the scent of fresh baked bread ...
Mr. Carter’s Decapitation
Although it happened many years ago, I remember it like it was yesterday; in fact, I can vividly recall the entire incident. The following is my own interpretation and clarification of Mr. Byron Carter’s fatal, freak automobile accident! Behold: It was during a hot summer day in the year of 1985 when my car had unexpectedly died, as a result, I began hitchhiking home. It wasn’t long before a couple, who appeared to be in their mid sixties, stopped to pick me up. The driver had quickly introduced himself as Mr. Byron Carter, and his wife as Mrs. Heidi Carter. Within five or so minutes, while...
Rendezvous in the Cabinet
Maximilian was a proficient agent for a discreet sub-sector of the English government, in fact one of the best there was. He was as charming as he was frivolous with a strong penchant for Irish whisky and bedding unconventional brunette women he barely met that usually foreboded his assignments. His thick black curls had streaks of grey on his sides always combed back that left them spiraling to the back of his head. Max was usually dressed to the nines, custom black or grey suits and lavish jewelry to match, but this time he came in sluggishly. He had only a golden lighter in his pocket engra...