The Ghosts Of The City (And A Boy Called Bran)_Sirens_Appropriately Dressed_Goodbye Walter
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The Ghosts Of The City (And A Boy Called Bran)
Trigger Warning; swearing, mentions of child abuseBran knew that Halloween was importantwww.onedoor.cc, but he never could truly express why it was in words. It was more of a gut feeling, a feeling that gnawed at his soul each year he spent inside his empty dark space of a room rather than outside in the streets. His room wasn’t the problem anymore, though it had been when he was first placed here with the foster program; it felt like a prison with blank cream walls and a single square window that was too high up on the wall to see out of, and the bed made for toddlers holding itself together with its own s...
Sirens
She heard the sirens behind her before she saw the flashing lights. “Oh, brother.” Glancing at her speed, Barb realized that she was going 40. It was only ten over the speed limit! “Give me a break,” she thought to herself, as she wondered if she would be late getting dinner ready.A tap on the window. She rolled it down. “Good afternoon, officer.” “Do you know why I pulled you over?” the officer asked, with a small smile.“I do not,” Barb lied, hoping that the officer wasn’t one of the difficult ones. If she was being honest, she would say that she was thinking about getting home to make dinne...
Appropriately Dressed
No one ever snapped my bra. Which came as no surprise to me or my 40 C's. I didn't date. No one paid me compliments. My mother frequently told me I was ugly. I had to hide under oversized clothes. Baggy and resembling elephant skin. Grey, taupe, beige and any other dull color was required to hide my ugliness so that I wasn't vain and distracting. One day, I was riding in the passenger seat of the family car listening to my mother lecture me on how no one would ever love me. I jumped. I jumped from the moving car. The pain in my chest so excruciating that I didn’t care if I lived. I lived. No ...
Goodbye Walter
The car had been giving us trouble for weeks, but we could not get rid of it. It was our only means of transportation. The vibrant blue of its youth had been riddled with rust holes, dents, and scratches over its fifteen years of ownership.It had been my parents’ car. A 1989 Dodge Omni that had seen more of the country than most people do in a lifetime. When I finally moved out after my third year of college, my parents gifted the car to me. It had always been a trusty ride and Walter, my affectionate name for him, always got me to where I needed to go.Today was different, however. The rattli...