Ouroboros_Battle Worn_THANK YOU!_Winter's Requiem
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Ouroboros
Ava parked in the dark space between streetlights, under the shadow of a tree. She looked across the road at her sister’s house and saw the light spilling from the bare kitchen window, casting a ghostly rectangle across the lawn.“Just act like everything is normal,” she’d said to Annemarie. “Make him something nice for dinner and crush a sleeping pill into it. Make sure he has a whiskey with it.”Don’t you remember, she could have added.She left the ignition running and the vapor from the exhaust floated like mist around the car. Hands ready on the wheel. She watched the glowing digits on the c...
Battle Worn
Note: Contains mentions of death and violence.Battle Worn By H. K. SladeThe waiting was like an itch. Tim just wanted to scratch it and be done. He’d prepared for this day for eight months in the academy and now that it was here, he was terrified. He couldn’t wait for the following morning when he could sit at home and think back on his first shift as a memory. No matter what they say or one day come to believe, no cop enjoys their first day on the job.“You lucked out,” people told Tim so often he couldn’t remember who said it first. “Your training officer is squared away.” The statement was...
THANK YOU!
“On May 25th at 6p.m, café “Paradise” will host a meeting of classmates for the 15th anniversary of our graduation” I recently received an e-mail in my inbox. Oh my God, 15 years…time passed by really fast. Then I remembered the prom at which, even if we did not swear to eternal friendship, we promised to meet at least once a year. After school, as it should be, life scattered us not only across different universities, but also around the cities and even across countries.After a long separation, such a reunion excited me, because it was an opportunity to return for a moment to the past, to ...
Winter's Requiem
( cw; swearing )Wake up. The wind seemed to softly whisper. Wake up. It's all he can hear as his eyes slowly open. Everything is blanketed in snow and shrouded in mist, gentle flakes of snow falling with each gust of wind. But he can only hear the wind. He can't feel it, even when he holds his hand out. The snowflakes don't even land on his skin, it almost looks like it's avoiding him somehow— but the boy doesn't pay that much mind. He's too preoccupied trying to ascertain just where he was, and just who he was. So, he gets up. The snow doesn't crunch beneath his feet. At every turn of the hea...