Forgetting to Remember_Whisked Away_Snowpocalypse_The Oak’s Interaction
Catalog Guide:
Forgetting to Remember
He pulls his shirt over his nose, cringing at the familiar smell of pollution. The skies were gloomy, and cloudy. Sunlight was nowhere to be found. He pushed his fingers to his temples. “Such a wonderful welcome home” he says. He waved down a cab, an old male driver pulled in, looking more impatient every second. The taxi driver looks back at him, clearly confused. “ID?” He had a heavy accent and arrogant tone. New York, the only city in the world that could be so welcoming and brutal at the same time. He pulled his ID out, Wilbur Moore. The driver nodded and grumbled. Will slid into the back...
Whisked Away
The bumpy section of highway pulled Michael from his sleep, the last of the four boys to wake up in the backseat of the tiny Volkswagon Golf. Lifting his head from his windowsill pillow, he saw the sun peeking just above the pine trees off the side of Interstate 77、Michael didn’t remember falling asleep in the car. “Where are we going?” “Just taking a trip to see Grandma and Grandpa.” That was the only explanation he would get from his parents. He didn’t press.He whispered to his older brother, “Randy, where are we going?”“They just said to see Grandma."“I didn’t know we were going to visit Gr...
Snowpocalypse
Elle was locking up for the night she was the last one to leave she had just set the alarm when the rain came she hurried down the street in the dark of 3am, which in the city was not that dark. As she entered her apartment she turned on the weather, it was noise. The man was twww.onedoor.ccalking about the storm lasting three days and becoming a wintry mix as the temperature continued to plummet. She picked up her cell phone and sent a text to her morning manager telling him not to come in due to the weather. Texans did not drive in this stuff well. Then she lay down to sleep the pitter of hail on the w...
The Oak’s Interaction
Warning: this story involves domestic violence. The Oak’s Interaction with StephI really, really, have to go. My sweatpants are already damp from the little bit of pee that I was unable to control leaving my bladder, and I just hope that the seat of the camry isn’t going to smell like piss for the next month. Daryl, my husband of almost three years, would have a fit if he found out. I can’t believe he even let me go to visit my mom without him; I know how mad he gets when I go out on my own. And now I’m going to upset him more with my car smelling so bad. Why do I do this to him? I need to fin...