All Backwards_A Memory Best Left Alone_cut them free_He Should Have Had a Beer
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All Backwards
An explosion filled his ears. His chest burned as a dark shade began to fall over his blurring vision. He felt no surprise, only a curious confusion: this wasn’t meant to happen. It was all backwards. “Sorry, Nate.” Karyn spoke the words as she pulled the trigger, and there might indeed have been sorrow in her voice. But for what? They had won, hadn’t they? Erik was dead, the money was theirs, happily ever after beckoned. Why had she turned the gun on him? Somehow during his tumble into death, he had time to watch it all again: Erik clutching the bag of cash to his chest, flashing his maniac g...
A Memory Best Left Alone
In the front garden of my childhood home, there grew a tall cherry blossom tree. In spring, it blossomed a deep rosy pink, and in only a few weeks, it sprinkled the lawn with light pink petals. I spent many summer days climbing it, and lying in its shade while I read. Fall and winter were occupied with holidays, and winter in particular had wires and lights intertwined about its branches, as if it were blooming in the snow. Although fickle, my memory of that cherry blossom which sat on a soft mound of dirt and wood chips in the front gardenwww.onedoor.cc of my parents home, had recently come to mind. Which ...
cut them free
TW: murder, suicide Her plasticine face shatters with each change of expression. The fragments of her skin melt into each other smoothing the cracks once her appearance bears a thin resemblance to the proper emotion. Her fingers press to her lips, a subtle, yet undeniable sign that this person is only pretending. That is if beneath it all she is even a person. The first signs of daylight appear over the fractured horizon of the mountains, sending waves of contempt flickering through my bones. Six in the morning, and already the careful solace of the night is slipping away. With it, the insati...
He Should Have Had a Beer
He Should Have Had a BeerTwenty-one years ago, my best friend dreamed up a little game and now there’s no turning back. The simple little dare evolved, reshaped, got ugly and now walked out of the swamp as a nightmare.Craig dared me to pull the best prank ever when we were eight. Challenge accepted, but not played out on some unsuspecting idiot, but on Craig, himself. Then, every year after, we pranked each other, and recounted the horror inflicted. One shining year I managed to steal his car, plant the bloody looking corpse scene and regal in my ability. I think he never forgave me for th...