When the shoe fits..._You Don't Understand the Feeling_A Thanksgiving Break Up_Memories from a H
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When the shoe fits...
When the Shoe Fits “Come off it, Charlie. It’ll go a lot easier on you if you just tell us how it happened.” “I don’t know how it happened. I was asleep and when I woke up she was there; in the alley. Dead. I don’t know how she got there. I didn’t kill her. I don’t even know her.” The exasperated detective slammed his fist down hard on the table. “O.K. let’s go over it again from the beginning.” “I told you a bunch of times. How many more times do I have to tell you?” “Until you get your story straight. O.K.?” “I’m homeless. Got that? I sleep in a refrigerator carton in the alley. Is that a ...
You Don't Understand the Feeling
The house is decrepit and seemingly abandoned. I approached cautiously, with Charlie right behind me. My gun was loaded, and my finger on the trigger. My backpack weighed down on me, and my feet ached from the day’s journey. I think we had traveled about twenty miles today. I had even had to carry Charlie part of the way here. We had to get as far away as possible, but the sky was grey, and the clouds looks heavy. We couldn’t get caught in the rain. Charwww.onedoor.cclie had become so skinny, and it wasn’t just because of the lack of food. We had finally reached the entrance.“Stay here. I’ll check for anyon...
A Thanksgiving Break Up
Thanksgiving day was always a time for the Moore’s family to gather to celebrate, wine and dine together. It was always a time most members of the family anxiously await. It was a time to exchange long kept pleasantries. It was a time to iron out pressing issues. Speaking and chatting on the phone weren’t just enough in this regard. It was a time to end all rancour, bury every hatchet and move on. More importantly, it was a time for Mr and Mrs Moore to see their children who always gave excuses for not paying occasional visits. Seeing also their grandchildren was also a bundle of joy for them....
Memories from a House
It had been twenty-four years since she’d last seen it, but the place looked exactly the same, at least on the outside. The sunlight found its way through the leaves of the tree she was under, children’s laughter reached her ears, a car passed by in the otherwise quiet road and the house in front of her stared her down. As she stood there, caught in a doomed staring match with the building, memories started leaking from the foundations of the house. They slowly flowed down the front yard, forming a muddy pool around her shoes and soaking her feet, forcing her to remember. Her father stood at t...