I remember of these photos_Dead Julie_Achromatic Dreams_Alyssia the Rose
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I remember of these photos
There’s a photo in one of my old albums, the day written on the back says “august, 21st, 1937”. In that one I still had rosey cheeks, the bluest of eyes - which are now green - , a little dress and a headband. I believe it was my baptism day. In my face, I know it’ll seem crazy, there is still the shadow of those sweet plump features. They haven’t changed much since I made small objects with glue, scribbled on the sheets and the years I was I could still show by pulling up a single hand. They are just stretched and shriveled. That one is inside the oldest photo album, my first. The box it is ...
Dead Julie
Everything was ready for the ritual. Pam had brought French bread for the offering; she said the yeast represented life. Julie-- dead Julie, not Julie M, who was very much alive-- dead Julie brought the stinking carcass of a roadkilled woodchuck. It was flattened in the middle where a tire had gotten it. This was meant to represent the finality of death. Except, of course, for Julie.Julie died on a balmy, sunshine filled May day as spring waned and summer lifted its wings. She fell off a cliff in South Africa, her blue eyes wide and blonde hair spread out around her like a halo. They managed ...
Achromatic Dreams
A purple bow tie. In particular, a purple bow tie with light pink spots tied over a white shirt and pleated black bottoms. Dr. Achroma Hues woke in a fit, static in his waking Network rendered his cybernetic limbs useless and forced him to lay there, pondering his dream. It was going to www.onedoor.ccbe a bad day.Why had he dreamt about something like that? As the static cleared away he closed his hand, listening to the pleasant plink of his metal fingers against his metal palm for several seconds. Did he even own a bow tie like that? With almost 500 bow ties in his ever growing collection he couldn’t recal...
Alyssia the Rose
As I get wheeled out of the house, the smell of something fresh. Something I only dreamed of smelling, let alone seeing, was in perfect view outside of the house. Flowers. Dozens upon dozens of flowers. All different colors and smells hit me as soon as we get past the door frame. Green. Overwhelming shades of green. The color I had come to associate with the smell of crayons and the feel of markers is becoming real life. Tangible things I can taste, smell, and see. The wheels of the wheelchair get caught often, but the man wheeling me navigates around the big cracks in the pavement. I look up...