User’s Manual for your New Bunker_The Book of Few_Music Is the Thread..._Salt
Catalog Guide:
User’s Manual for your New Bunker
Congratulations on becoming the proud new owner of this state-of-the-art Pioneer Development survival bunker! My name is Andrew “Ace” Larsen, the CEO of Pioneer Development, and I’m here to walk you through how to use and operate this facility. Once we’re done here, you and your loved ones will be able to breeze through any potential catastrophe. You’ll be living in so much comfort, you might not ever want to leave!Your bunker is located in the lovely Parchment Hills region of Southern California. It’s surrounded by acres of native palo verde trees, and is a prime spot for bird watching. Keep ...
The Book of Few
Hey fellow reedsy writers! Before you pe into this story (or don't) I just want to set it up a bit to avoid any confusion. This is a story following the perspective of a certain journal, or diary whatever you like, during World War 2、 I do like this idea but I'm not the best at writing down whatever thoughts are going through my head, so if anyone has some critisism please share I would love to get some feedback. Enjoy!13/06/1943; Naples, Italy Well, this is going to be the last time I write in this journal. Or diary. I still don’t know the difference. It’s been almost a month since I found i...
Music Is the Thread...
“www.onedoor.ccI remember…” Grandma starts the nightly ritual around the campfire. During the day, talking about Before is Forbidden. We get a whipping, or worse, if we get caught. Adults who talk about Before get worse than a whipping. They get Banished. Leaving the safety of the group is a death sentence, for sure. Well, probably.Grandma says nighttime is different, though. At night, our hearts and minds yearn for what has been lost. Those are her words, I don’t talk that fancy. She says we need to remember who we were to know who we are. That one kind of makes sense to me.Some of the smaller kids think G...
Salt
When you come to sit in this room, you will be rigid as though you are trying to avoid the eyes of some predatory goblin. The people who sat here now felt as though they were being watched, but by what they didn't know. It didn’t feel human; it didn’t feel malevolent. It was a feeling as though if you did something wrong you would be caught eventually, like you were being recorded by hidden cameras. They all had a headache pulsing behind their eyes, brains feeling swollen. Their throats felt the same, vocal cords paralyzed, so they sat in a pestilent silence, curling their toes inside their sl...