Different Dimensions_Are You There_Wasteland Flower_Fix it
Catalog Guide:
Different Dimensions
The cloak of brume was lifting. Once released from its shadows Greta was afforded a clearer view from the dew-damp park bench. Ah! Yes, that’s better. She absentmindedly scratched the ears of the chubby little black and white dog on her lap, her fingers settled upon a gnarly patch of hair. She gently worried it back into smoothness while watching her grandson Dillon’s elastic smile grow wider as he was projected higher and higher by daddy. Observing their game filled her with sunshine. The mood seemed to transfer to Sushi too, who jumping down, danced, Lipizzaner like, from one foot to another...
Are You There
“Are you there, God? It’s me. I know I don’t deserve you listening to me. I think the last time I called on you was when I was just a child. But if you are there, I could really use your help.”The dry desert air made the coolness seem more acceptable. Jason stayed on his knees with his hands cuffed, looking into the clear, starry night. His cuts on his face and arms had already clotted. “I know I haven’t called on you, or prayed, or… whatever. But if you exist, I could really use your help.”He could still see the taillights of the SUV that had just left him in the Nevada desert driving away. H...
Wasteland Flower
TW: references to violence and elder neglectI see Luck twice before I let him inside my car. Before I stick my head out of the window and say “Where are you heading?” and he slides into the passenger seat as if it was made for him. He is all sunburn and dangling silver necklaces and he says “Anywhere.”The sun was sticky, trickling down my skull like someone had cracked an egg over my head. A physical weight that constantly made me brush over my hair to check if something was caught in it.There were fowww.onedoor.ccrest fires in Florida and California and the fevered buzz of the Manson murders electrified th...
Fix it
The boy stood in the center of the kitchen with a blue disposable razor in his mouth, and his father paced around him. He would fix the boy’s speech impediment at last. He worked on the device most of the previous night: he removed the blades, melted a small plastic block into strips, and arranged them to the speech therapist’s specifications.Mark looked at his five year old son, Jerry, whose red shorts sagged, and his white t-shirt hung down below his knees. Jerry was such a late bloomer that it was hard to find clothes in his size, but Mark shopped for clothes with optimism.They created many...