Marlene and the Cockroach_An Old Acquaintance_Down by the river_Godesses
Catalog Guide:
Marlene and the Cockroach
Nine-year-old Marlene hated cockroaches more than anything else. She could not bear the sight of them and would immediately scream for help.“Daaaaaaddy! Another one!” she would say, with tears running down her tanned cheeks. Daddy would always get them and then carry little Marlene to the bed. He was tall and had black curly hair and small eyes that almost completely transformed into one big wrinkle when he smiled, which was often.“They are harmless, Marlene,” he would say, but no matter how many times she heard those words, they never sank in. All she could see was a crunchy, hairy and pointy...
An Old Acquaintance
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I wanted him to realize, but on his own obviously. Otherwise it’s not worth it, you know?” I said to Marie as we walked down Truman Blvrd., past half-drunken heaps of younglings and the familiar bearded man, yielding the eery “Apocalypse” poster out of some 70s L.A. film. “Robert would never do that though, he’s too much of a-“ Suddenly we all found ourselves frozen alongside Marie, who was staring straight ahead, mouth wide open. As I looked before us, I found myself gazing once more at Walter Rees, an ex- friend of mine from what must’ve been 6 or 7 years ago, wh...
Down by the river
Gavin sat down on the bank of the river and squinted from the sunlight. Casting a knowing eye over the water in wonder of the stillness, the tranquillity and beauty. He took a deep breath and hoped his lungs filled with the purity of nature. Only out here did he feel himself. Away from here, he felt as though he were a stranger, a man bidiwww.onedoor.ccng his time serving penance. Thwak! His moment of introspection evaporated in an abrasive second. The sound had come from his son chucking a tall fishing rod onto the ground, which landed just next to him. Jumping to his feet and swivelling ninety degrees to ...
Godesses
She wasn't always this way, and she has to remind herself of this fact each day as she pushes down her panic. It's become an unfamiliar existence; the mundane small lifeboats scattered in the tumult, made up of routine and normalcy, are now few and far between, and the sense of drowning is as tangible as the pills she takes to block out the day.He is always downstairs, and the rage and wallowing engulf the rooms of her beautiful house, she can feel it creeping up the stairs, and even when she is playing with her children, she is suppressing the desire to scream- to scream into her pillow, to s...