don't make me go outside_Murder in the neighbourhood_Fallen: Encounter_The Last Sunrise
Catalog Guide:
don't make me go outside
The front door clicks. My sister has stopped calling goodbye. I creak onto my side, but the sparrows are back. Their chirps reverberate against my skull in the same way children yell into vacant caves. Have to shut the window. Blackout curtains aid the illusion of my endless night—less like I’m rotting in a cave, more like the sun is folklore. Of course, drawing the curtains shatters the illusion like spilled red wine on an alabaster carpet. I swallow the curse trapezing on my tongue. It’s not her fault. In the weeks, months, since I’ve navigated the garden, the foliage has swelled. Leaf-smoth...
Murder in the neighbourhood
Peeking through the window my surprise turned to horror; drops of blood sprinkled all over Mr Rodwells' window.The screaming all went to a silence; the environment was quite as he switched off the lights. An hour had gone by;Mr Rodwell opened his front door carrying a body wrapped in a back bag as he headed towards the dark woods with a shovel on his left hand. Mr Rodwell continued digging and digging and when he saw the pit was deep enough; he threw the body inside the pit and covered it. I trailed slowly behind him; hiding behind a tall oak tree. I felt something crawling all over me; the ...
Fallen: Encounter
The knight’s fingers ran unsteadily against the cliffside, jostling lightly against its texture, the wild rock almost hostile in its inhospitality. Curious, he threw his gaze to the wall, pausing briefly on his trek to assess it, before sending his eyes out to greet the far horizon. Despite the short while since the knight’s embark, the sun stood high upon it’s zenith, casting a rather gentle glow on the knight’s Perilous Adventure. Though, even in jest……“adventure” seemed a touch overstated. The knight returned his gaze to the path before him, continuing up the cliffside, once again recalling...
The Last Sunrise
It wasn’t anything like what was depicted in the stories Aava heard as a child-- the ones passed down from generation to generation dating all the way back to the thirty-thousandth century. The sky wasn’t a graceful blend of soft azures and bold purples and pinks, there was no golden glow that seemed to light the trees on fire, awww.onedoor.ccnd the thickness of her protective suit prevented her from feeling either the chill of the last few minutes of night, or the warmth of the oncoming day. Instead, the light of the expanding sun ignited the radiation-filled atmosphere in a shocking sheet of nauseous ora...