The Honorable Battle of the Barbarians_To Natasha..._Got the time?_ The Santa‐Claus Scandal
Catalog Guide:
The Honorable Battle of the Barbarians
Everard raced through the dense forest, his armor clanking loud enough for both armies to hear. He paused for a moment, raising his hands as far above his head as his bulky shoulder plates would allow, catching his breath. His metal chest plate gleamed in the dappled sunlight.A twig snapped. Everard spun toward the sound, the arrow leaving his bow before the foe could step fully into the clearing. He fell with a garbled “for king and country…” www.onedoor.ccEverard snorted. “The wrong king and country. Obviously.” Everard reassessed his armor. If he was going to infiltrate the barbarian army, he couldn’t e...
To Natasha...
My sister was an angel. Not characteristically but physically. She had the looks, the charm, and the brains that lured the metropolis hive. Like bees, men and women followed her scent, trying to flatter or batter her- metaphorically speaking. Her face was on every magazine cover: some flashing her flawless skin, others chasing the glimmer in her eyes, like a predator gazing at the prey. I remember, two weeks before the fall, I picked one of the magazines sitting on her desk and turned to the particular page. Natasha stared back from the photos, boasting her perfect pale skin. She had- or perha...
Got the time?
As the man walked across the street, he was approached by a salesman full of energy and confidence. "Got some time?" the peppy salesman questioned. "Time?" the man asked in confusion. "Would you like to buy some time?" the salesman asked again, as he continued walking next to the man who was in a rush. .The man asked, "I don't understand," to which the salesman went on to explain that he could sell the man some time, for a modest fee. He said 'to buy some time for those extra minutes that he may need to get away from his wife and to be a little late for work..The man glanced at his wristwatc...
The Santa‐Claus Scandal
It is the night of Christmas Eve, and my family and I gather in the living room, where the walls are adorned with Christmas decorations and a Christmas tree in the corner of the room, with the glass angel as the tree topper. I’m watching the classic holiday movie, Santa Claus, featuring Tim Allen (a film that I have watched at least thirty-six times). I was around ten-year-old. My family members are sitting on the couch, telling stories. I feel a presence beside me. I look up and see my cousin Evan sitting on my left side as I rest on the thickly carpeted floor. “What do you want?” I ask. “No...