A Meadow_If I weren't eighteen_Introverts Therapy_High Midnight
Catalog Guide:
A Meadow
Tom stared unmoved through the cottonwood trees behind his ranch; his Sony fifty-five inch high definition TV monitor tumbled end over end, cartwheeling like a glass spewing boulder down the steep North Dakota gully, finally settling on the banks of the frozen Red. “I’ve had enough Martha,” he said out loud, fingering his blue turquoise bola, speaking to beyond the river; to the family plot, the snow-covered meadow where three generations of Scotts were buried.With a steady drip, the techno world had finally spilled over the top of his frustration bucket, already choke-full. And the last drop ...
If I weren't eighteen
cw: use of alcohol, mention of deathLast night I was arrested. For the first time. And I am unusually relaxed. Happy? I don’t know. Perhaps surprised. I spent the night here. I didn’t sleep. The smell of metal bars would make me frown almost every time I would take a breath. I turned eighteen a year ago on today’s day. Prison smell is the perfect way to end, and describe the past year. I heard people are looking forward to their eighteenth birthday. Legally they can drink, go to clubs, marry. On my eighteenth birthday, my grandma asked me, now that I’m an adult, will I ever take work and rel...
Introverts Therapy
“Speak now.”Well, why not? I thought. The truth can now be told.The statute of limitations has long since expired (I’ve checked), and anyway, society tends to go easy on youthful offenders these days.I was thinking about how to start when, Cyrus – he’s the resident counselor here – gave me the verbal nudge – “Speak now” – and asked me to lead off the session. Actually he didn’t ask, he instructed. There’s a difference, but he’s a good fellow with his heart in the right place, and he said it with an encouraging smile and a gentle nod of his head, so he can be forgiven. He is, after all, the cou...
High Midnight
Josiah stuck his spade upright into the pile of dirt he’d been moving and wiped his brow. It had been a hot day and, though the sun had set nearly four hours earlier, the effort of breaking through the sun-hardened ground had worked up quite a sweat. He tugged at his dirt-encrusted shirt a few times to fan the cool night air over his skin, then picked up his lantern from the cemetery grass and examined the hole he’d been digging. It was roughly seven feet long by three feet wide and a little over three feet deep. At that moment it was an ugly amorphous thing, but by the time he’d finished it ...