What Happened to Yesterday_TOGETHER NO MATTER WHAT_Fight or Flight_The Killing Pages
Catalog Guide:
What Happened to Yesterday
As I wake up in a bed that isn't mine, the winter breeze compliments the cracked window in front of me. This house doesn’t look the same as when it was when I fell asleep. The more I explore the house that isn't my own, the more I realize how familiar it seems. It was my grandparent’s old home that no one used. This house served as a safe haven for our family. But why would I be here? Out of all the places in the world. I travel outside with my grandfathers’ favorite slippers. There has to be a reason why it's winter. When I fell asleep it was a nice summer breeze. It's obvious that I prefer a...
TOGETHER NO MATTER WHAT
We got off on the wrong foot the last time I was back home. I didn't listen to Rianne and only knew what I wanted to say. So as our conversation evolvedwww.onedoor.cc, it was me and all me talking over anything she had to offer in the way of a peace gesture. I didn't know what the hell was going on in my head. The enemies were screaming a foul language and got me wrapped up in my own dismal moment in life. Tremors and confusion finally got to me, and I lost it and put my fist through the wall. Breathing heavy, I paused and looked at my hands. What the hell is going on? She tried her best in quelling the dem...
Fight or Flight
Seconds after takeoff I realized controllability was an issue. It was the first flight of a radio controlled, balsa wood and tissue paper covered P-47 model that I had spent months building. I was 13 years old and nearly every kid from my block was there for the event. I had gained popularity by crashing model airplanes. Before this flight I had assured my friends that things would go well this time.The P47’s engine’s throttle had stuck wide open and it was leaving the earth at an alarming speed. The engine had come from an earlier model that I had crashed. It was oversized and powerful, makin...
The Killing Pages
TW: graphic depictions of violent actsDay 1I answer an ad formatted like a Black Ops mission that leads me to a colorless office building. You come here and read for money 772 Iris BoulevardThe blacked-out words catch my wayward cigarette ashes like the cracked sidewalk catches raindrops in its crevices. I stare into the grey above and wonder if the job will be as intriguing as this ad. If my burnt fingertips will sense peculiar things the way it twitched before rain formed. “Better head inside if I wanna get paid.” The buzz of one of several hanging lights spaced apart not unlike my t...