unoccupied_Calendar Year_Hell Hath No Fury_Windows To Our Soul
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unoccupied
Guest rooms were always hiding things. No one starts out wanting a guest room. It’s usually an office first, but then you got fired and can’t look at it anymore, so you throw a bed in it that you’ll never sleep in. Sometimes it’s a kid’s room, but they’ve moved out into a college dorm room. It used to be storage but then the porce happened leaving it depressingwww.onedoor.ccly empty. A studio for recording music but the bass player was in a car accident, and the band broke up.Guest rooms are rarely ever intentional. It’s more of a ritual. Something society has deemed necessary. The presumption that someone ...
Calendar Year
I don’t have a calendar. I don’t have a calendar and usually I’m fine with that. I walk out of the house armed with the day of the week and sometimes even the time (though never with a watch) and if I did for some unfathomable reason need to know the date, I’d ask. I don’t even really subscribe to the lunar calendar, though I haven’t thought about it extensively enough to formulate a coherent reason, maybe because I’d rather stay in the shallow and agnostic end of the pool than wade into the dark and deep waters of contemplating real things. But I’ve been waiting for a while now, and it’s diff...
Hell Hath No Fury
Hi, lovelies!A few content warnings: cursing, suicidal thoughts, death, and a brief mention of substance abuse.Thanks for reading!---------It started with an envelope - white and innocuous save for the “time sensitive” stamp in the bottom right corner. Whoever it was had spelled my name correctly, which was a rare occurrence among the spam mail I regularly received. Siobhan O’Rourke.Yes, my family is Irish, I would deadpan to whoever asked, as if it weren’t the most obvious thing in the world.I’d seen my name spelled every which way, but rarely as my mother intended. It’s what moved me to tear...
Windows To Our Soul
She never feared the dark, whereas children her age would cower and ask their parents to check under the bed and in their closets for any monsters hiding and waiting to pounce them. No, she didn't bother with them, her parents wouldn't humor her either, even if she asked. She never did.She was eight, she'd lost count on how many times she'd ask her grandmother to tell her a story as they sat in front of a great bay window staring at the great expanse of trees and grass. Sometimes they'd change, some days they would be an ocean, other days they would be in a canyon, most of the time they were...