The Observer_Mona On The Edge Of Town_All the Colors of Visible Light_Nexus Collapse
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The Observer
His head was absolutely pounding. Evan Myers glared against the offending office lights while doing his best to ignore the dangerous churning of his stomach. Confined to the rickety rolling chair at his desk, he made valiant www.onedoor.ccefforts to sip at his lukewarm tea as his only defense against his splintering skull. His thick rimmed glasses did little to shield the bags under his half lid eyes, while his thinning hair attempted some interpretive dance atop his head. In conclusion: Evan was a mess. It was the best he felt in a long time. ...
Mona On The Edge Of Town
No one was quite sure where the young woman came from. She might have been a native of the planet, but she really looked too human for that – the natives had two heads and three eyes, after all, so they were pretty easy to spot. But the visitor didn't speak at all, so there was no information forthcoming. The citizens of the colony agreed to call her Mona, a name that someone suggested because the one who suggested the name liked it, and set up a schedule of homes where she could stay, one night at a time.After the first month, Mona had taken a night in each house, and still never said a word,...
All the Colors of Visible Light
Hazia remembered light. It was the brightest thing she’d ever seen. If she’d had words, she might have compared it to being a snow-feathered dove sitting in the middle of an almond orchard, perched amid an explosion of white blossoms, bits of hesitant white sky piercing through petals—white on white on white. But she experienced that light without a name, or any words at all. It was the most fully present Hazia had ever been in her life, lying on what she later found out was the recovery table, a thin blanket draped over her body, coming up from a deep ocean into light. When her head broke thr...
Nexus Collapse
I remember when the world went dark. It began as a virus. An insignificant little bug. A spam email, a text, a DM on Instagram. We all contracted it in our own way. Mine was a Facebook message from what appeared to be a stranger, but what was, in actuality, a hacker I suppose you could say.It showed up in my message requests, a separate inbox for messages from people you’re not friends with. “Wow!” it began, “Is this you?!” from a girl I had never seen before. Of course that caught my attention.I furrowed my brow, “Is what me?” So I clicked. It brought up a dark page, covered in symbols from a...