The Pumpkin King_VOGUE-00_Remembrance_One Last Shot
Catalog Guide:
The Pumpkin King
Cherry apple dripped over his bottom lip and rolled as a drop of red-brown syrup down to Clay's chin. At twenty-four, he'd still not given up many of his childhood vices, including the least destructive of which was a penchant for hard candies that could only be found around Halloween time in his hometown of Libertyville, New York.He sucked the cherry-apple-flavored liquid up over his lip, enjoying the tart sweetness on the tip of his tongue as he plowed forward through the snow in the open market. It was a Sunday, and he liked to make it to the farmer’s market while everyone else was still f...
VOGUE-00
Popularity was destiny. Stenn-5、8813 knew. Walking around as an advertisement was tiring, even though it was the end of the day and 'they' were eager to continue jaunting until the wee hours of the morning. There was still work to do. They flipped on the internal HUD appearing in their field of view. Rostering through the persona index containing the day's ego-dumps, they carefully itemized a pair of hip luxury slippers—were they wire mesh stilettos?—check, and they took a toll on the wage rewards. Stenn-5、8813 had to do better next time. They continued to peruse the index. Photos ...
Remembrance
It isn’t raining nor is there an impending thunderstorm looming. The Talisman Grove is in the midst of a dry Indian Summer with no threat of rainfalls or thunderstorms comwww.onedoor.ccing any time soon. Yet at night, the asphalt, concrete, brick and stone pavements alike begin oozing microscopic bubbles of moisture, seeping through its pores with almost like an oil type substance. Fog uncharacteristically gathers on empty, abandoned streets hovering close above surface level every night since summer has started in June. What’s even more peculiar, at the Williams G. Foster cemetery, as soon as the clock str...
One Last Shot
Hi, it’s Yaro. Can we talk? Please. After reading his message, I said SCREEN OFF to put my phone’s display in standby mode. Since he returned from the pilot colony on Mars last week, he kept calling and sending messages, expecting I would agree to meet. I lost count of how many times I blocked his number so he couldn’t bother me anymore. Maybe, it was thirty times. Maybe more. But he always had a new number to use for bothering me. A tiny ant on my dashboard tried to drag a cookie crumb, reminding me that my last visit to the car wash was more than a month ago.“Good luck!” I told the insect. I...