Hana and the Flower Rain - A rare blossom at the Sakura festival delivers a life-changing encounter.
Catalog Guide:
Hana and the Flower Rain - A rare blossom at the Sakura festival delivers a life-changing encounter.
The streets were alive with the energy of a thousand joyful faces. People milled together, raising flower-adorned drinks, smiling at one another while knocking glasses together in toasts and good cheer. The scents from the food vendors in their small street shacks mingled aromatics with the sounds of knives knocking swiftly against wooden blocks. The musical notes of percussion, wind, and stringed instruments resonated through the air. It was Sakura, the annual Japanese celebration of the Cherry Blossoms. Overhead, pink and white silk blossoms were strung together, tethered across the stree...
Someone must remeber
I stared inwww.onedoor.cctensely into the certain eyes of Samantha Smith. The last name Smith was ironic because usually such a common last name represented a larger group of people yet here she was, the only person from the incident who wanted to remember. As was customary I asked her again “Are you sure?” In response she nodded her head. “Are you sure you want to remember this incident?” I asked again. I maintained a monotone voice and a straight face, for my line of work it was vital that I made no judgement to the decisions made either good or bad. “It wasn’t an incident, it was murder” she said boldly...
When It Counts
“It doesn’t count if you’re already planning your defeat,” Cassidy told her younger sister. She looked down at her sunken sibling who was slumped in a chair to the point she was nearly on the floor. Her laptop was open, shining its light onto both of the girls’ faces with the title “Submission Received” flashing in a deep, bright red which contrasted heavily with the emotions dominating the room. A tear rolled down Tabitha’s cheek before she lifted her head to meet with her sister’s. “What do you mean?” Tabitha had just submitted her first application for an internship at a hospital clinic. It...
Birth Mother
I stand in a perfectly pristine kitchen. The counter tops are covered in flour. She stands at them, waiting for me. She’s rolling out the cookie dough in deep, even strokes, like the ocean kissing the beach. Her soft humming fills the kitchen with love. Her hands lift me up; I'm in a navy blue sundress with little yellow sunflowers on it. “Here, sweetie,” she hands me an apron and I lift my little arms obediently to her. She ties it around my waist. A little teddy bear clutching a rolling pin in one soft, brown paw is splashed across my tummy. And beside me, she rolls. I watch the muscles in h...