Backward Spiral: A short story by M.J. Palladino_The Witnesses_Losing the Race_Stupid Shy? Bye Bye
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Backward Spiral: A short story by M.J. Palladino
Backward Spiral: A short story by M.J. PalladinoIt was an early sunset on a Thursday in March. Specks of dust fluttered about in the light seeping through the window. A box of clothes sat sunbathing on the bed, waiting to be moved. Just then, the doorknob twisted, and a young adult entered. She looked down at a small sheet of paper in her hand, her eyes scanning it. At the top, it read, “Thalia’s to-do list.” After a brief moment, she crumpled the paper and tossed it into a nearby wastebasket. She gazed at the box for a bit before picking it up. She took a deep breath before leaving the room. ...
The Witnesses
“He is a liar.” I say as I scowl at Mr. Neph, my newly-made enemy of the hour, who just gave a brief description of my ‘crime’. “No I am not, officer!” He shouted in a fit of anger. Mr. Neph was a plump middle-aged man with a wretched combover, dead set on framing me for a crime I most certainly didn’t commit. “Everyone needs to take it down a notch.” The Officer says in an American accent. “We need to hear all sides of this, Mr. Neph. Ms. Cartwright still needs to explain as well as the other witnesses.” “And you doubt my judgment? I, Alexander Elliot Neph Ⅱ-” “Yes, yes Mr. Neph. I understa...
Losing the Race
Have you ever been wrong about something but you were so convinced you were right so now you have to prove you were right in some way even if it takes all that you have in you. That’s what happens sometimes. So as a warning be careful what you say is right so you don’t get yourself in a bad or crazy situation. That’s how I got here, into this dare. It started out as a little friendly conversation… “Who do you think would win if we drag raced?” Lizzy asked speculatively.“Depends on what we’re racing.” Fitz replied.“Ok well what if I raced a Dodge and you raced how about we say a Lamborgini?” “...
Stupid Shy? Bye Bye
Most people who get invited into the lap of luxury for a day would be ecstatic. Not me. This whole building is so, so “extra,” it kinda sucks! Blue velvet sofas, Corinthian columns, and ankle-deep carpeting make me feel like my whole town of Miami Shores is downright ghetto. Fidgeting with a frayed edge on my polo shirt, I cower outside the Conference Center Ballroom of the Miami Biltmore Hotel, nearly pissing my pants. With palms sweating and a stomach lurching like it’s dancing Gangnam style, my only thought is to hightail it out of this marbled prison and into a deep, dank cave.My agent, .www.onedoor.cc..