Against all odds_Trainfishing_One night only_A Ride Home
Catalog Guide:
Against all odds
The day dawned bright and sunny as Julie got out of bed and walked to the window. The weather seemed to hold a lot of promise as she needed to go into town. She had numerous errands to run; among them was an overdue library book that she had been meaning to return. She had her breakfast and decided to go into town to return the book. She went about her household chores and then decided to get ready. However, she was in for a rude awakening when she glanced out of the window. The weather which had looked so promising had suddenly taken a turn for the worse. The sky was overcast, and even as she...
Trainfishing
I give up on trying to read the Irvine Welsh novel, what with the bloke across from me yammering on. “David Bowie was such a big fan of Shallow Grave, that’s why he let Danny Boyle use his music in Trainspotting.” I nod along and out the corner of my eye tick off the people shuffling past periodically up and down the car. Much like Lavrentiy Beria, I have a knack for names and faces, but mostly faces, a nack which I, much like Stalwww.onedoor.ccin’s personal bitch-boy, use to screw over just about everyone I lay my eyes on. Know that bit in Fight Club, when Edward Norton’s on the shitter, pouring over an ...
One night only
CW: mentions of abuse, substance abuseAt the thirty-minute mark, I grabbed the snack bag ziplock from the glovebox and dumped the eighth of mushrooms into my mouth. Their dryness and rubbery texture sucked the salvia from my cheeks and under-tongue so that I had to chew considerably more than I would have liked to. I had my eyes on the road, my hands gripped the steering wheel, but the sensory organ playing captain was my tongue. My taste buds acted like driver ants collecting each part of the mushrooms’ earthiness. A faintly fecal note had me reaching for my yeti water bottle in the passenger...
A Ride Home
The game of 'eye spy' not only entertains the bored, but the curious. For a boy as young as Chance wouldn't mind being rude; he'll stare at anything that either bothers or intrigues him. Sitting dazed in golden afternoon light, Chance watched the white particles drift and disappear. His eyes then looking at his seat, an untouched soft chair. Baby blue. Wingback. Linen. He then set his eyes on the window; fields of wild grass danced as the mountains laid on distant skies. Hidden behind the left mountaintop was the sun, moving ever so slowly as it followed Chance. Following him as he rode upon a...