Heavy is the Head that Wears the Crown_Every Little Broken Memory_Paper Snowflakes_Lucid_Dre@mer_: A
Catalog Guide:
Heavy is the Head that Wears the Crown
“It doesn’t count if you’re already planning your defeat.” I smiled, setting the glass in my hand down. There had been praises when I had got in. You must be so proud of Cecilia. Getting into the finals of HWA, at this age? And, of course, the insults. HWA’s standards have gotten this low? I bet she cheated her way in - I heard her family’s, like, REALLY rich. Have you heard of the Ivanovs? She got in because of her money. I had never been one to back down, so of course, when my longest rival put her finger in my face and declared that she would make me suffer a crushing defeat, I didn’t. Ba...
Every Little Broken Memory
Bright, white lights welcome Arthur back to consciousness. The deafening beeps of monitors and whirring of machinery greet him upon his awakening. Arthur’s only visible surroundings are a window to his right and a curtain circling around his bed. He tries to remember how he’s ended up here, but the bits that trickle in at random only make him anxious and bothered. He does remember being with someone important right before everything went black.“Oh my god. Oh my god what did I do?”He pulls away the curtains, knocking them over. “Jacob! Jacob where are you?” Arthur frantically shouts, his voice ...
Paper Snowflakes
“Did you know I was on a jury that sentenced a man to death?”Isabel paused, halting her movement. She stood on the counter in the small, convenience store. It wouldn’t be open for another twenty minutes, and she was rushing to www.onedoor.ccstick paper snowflakes to the ceiling. Christmas was around the corner, and tacky winter decorations were already expected of the business. Isabel had not worked at the convenience store for long, only a few weeks. She was seasonal help. Most people who worked at the convenience store were seasonal help. No one stayed long. Isabel figured it was because the owner, Mr. An...
Lucid_Dre@mer_: Ashwin and the Lightbringer
Amara walked to the mirror on her wall. She was the same girl-- violet headphones, messy blue hair, a white-with-salmon-stripes men’s t-shirt that she was wearing as a tunic with jeggings, high-tops on her feet. The only sign of the adventure was the green symbol on the underside of her wrist-- a longsword, or some kind of fantasy-looking sword drawn in a few minimalist lines. Amara sighed and ran her fingers through her hair. She knew that if she told her mom, she would think she was crazy and take her to a doctor. If she told the government about supernaturals they wouldn’t believe her. It w...