I Love You, Soul_Divinity in Words_The Path to Passive Teenage World Domination_Starbucks for Zombie
Catalog Guide:
I Love You, Soul
What is a soul made of? Is it stardust, or the gravity of sorrow in our hearts? Is it a spark of pure energy, or the spring in our step? To say it is merely a figment of abstract proportions would be dismissive of the importance of life and death itself. Though we cannot reach through the veil of physicality, we must admit that the souls inside of each of us have their own unique magic and whimsy that bless us partially, fairly or not, from each other. In this story, this soul is the first and only of its kind. Hana came into existence in a distant galaxy over the span of a million or so years...
Divinity in Words
His eyes scanned the crumpled-up piece of paper in his hand. He scoured each word with maddened determination. He pressed his hands to the form to fix the creases. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to find it. He wiped acidic sweat off of his Neanderthal eyebrows. His cracked and pulsating lips, he licked with an equally dry tongue. He reached for the water bottle to his left, but his hand came just short of grasping it, and he succeeded in only pushing off the desk to the floor. Though the sound rang in his ears and made him jump, it failed to bring him out of his feverish stu...
The Path to Passive Teenage World Domination
“This party has gone horribly wrong!” Carrie said.“Gee, you think?” Audrey replied.Tuna, eggs, butter, and other food items were scattered all over the house. Vomit delightfully ran down the walls and was in clusters on the beige carpet which Carrie will never get the stains out. A couple of beer bottles lodged themselves in the fifty-five-inch plasma screen TV and the toaster was stuck to the ceiling.“Well, do something!” Carrie urged as a couple boys knocked the other vase off the cabinet.“What do you want me to do?” Audrey asked.“Anything!”Audry put both index fingers in her mouth and let o...
Starbucks for Zombies
The bell rang once, then twice as the woman opened and then slammed the door shut. She looked around behind her wildly, all while maintaining a death grip on the handle. Her hair, pulled back into a ponytail, was frazzled; she wore athletic clothes, and a trickle of blood leaked down from the hem of her shorts. The people in the coffee shop stared at her. They were a motley crew: a high school student studying for exams, a businessman waiting for his order, an aspiring screenwriter with a laptop, a couple of teenage girls, a few employees, a grubbily dressed man who was probably homeless. She ...