Reverse Hospitality_Just Your Hope_An Aromatic Demise_Bitter-sweet poison
Catalog Guide:
Reverse Hospitality
Sitting observing the beauty of the water, I could hear the sound of the trees wrestling only to indulge in the songs of the birds singing in the trees. It’s interrupted with screaming for help. I yelled, “ back where are you?” There wasn’t an answer. I began to run in the direction of the sound of the voice. Then I heard it again, “Help”! I stopped and listen. I continue to move in the direction of the scream. “Where are you?” I’m by the tree with a heart carved H and M. Automatically, I ran to the voice. This was the tree Mary and I carved our initials in after our first kiss. Once I get clo...
Just Your Hope
"It's just your hope..."She could still hear the husky woman's voice echoing inside her head that night. Still hear the pounding of her heart as she scratched her signature. Still feel the burning as a key piece of her was taken away.Of course hope means something different to everyone. For some people hope might mean the accelerating feeling of winning, for others it can feel like calm excitement, and for some it can simply feel like nothing.Nothing because you've never felt it before. Nothing because you've never had a reason to. But once something is taken away from you… you finally realise...
An Aromatic Demise
I rememberwww.onedoor.cc Mom vividly. As though decades hadn’t passed since I was that troublesome nine-year-old kid. She was young then, probably not much older than thirty. She took me in, just like the other Moms had, to care for me until either someone adopted me or until she got tired of me and sent me off to live with another Mom. At first, I expected her to be like the others. Cold and callous, only in it for the money. But she was different. She seemed to care about me, in a way that seemed weird and foreign. I knew because she would look at me with those shining eyes, and say things. Things like, “...
Bitter-sweet poison
March 28thThe crowd roared as he seamlessly produced a grey cat from underneath the black cloth that laid on his palm before making it disappear in the same way. Faith had become evermore scarcer over the years and, like the other Aesir, Loki had succumbed to the outskirts of memory, having to perform cheap magic in theatre pubs across London to survive the night.After the show, Loki sat by the bar, his now white flaky hair resting on the sharp wrinkles on his face, and signalled the bartender. “Redbreast. Neat.”“Make it two,” said a voice from behind.“Leave the bottle,” the god of mischief in...