The Unlikely Outlet Into my Life_What Fresh Hell Is This?_Likes_A World of Memories
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The Unlikely Outlet Into my Life
It was like looking through a window.The young woman looking back just didn't remind me of something familiar. Not right away anyhow. Somehow; I was strange to myself. I was unsure of how this had come to my mind, but it was there none the less. It was somehow surreal. It was a mystery to my thoughts. It was like I was there but unable to reach myself. I couldn't even begin to understand why this was. Not in these moments that I'm standing there and looking at myself in the mirror. Only it isn't a mirror and I'm not standing. I'm sitting at a desk and looking out the window to my right. Who am...
What Fresh Hell Is This?
“Oh hell no,” Rahul muttered to himself, taking in his surroundings. The nauseating heat that came off the walls so cloyingly he www.onedoor.ccfelt he couldn’t breathe, the floor beneath the soles of his feet so blisteringly hot he worried he might not be able to lift them without losing a few layers of skin in the process hinted at where he’d arrived, again. But the most telling clue to his whereabouts was the figure he could see in the distance, flinging about a whip that Rahul could swear he’d seen in the trendy sex shop next to his loft in Brooklyn. He’d only gone in to support local, of course, and may...
Likes
I strolled through a daughter's Instagram account, looking for clues as to why she would end her own life. Human beings prospered on Instagram because they cleaved away from their rigid ideals and expanded their social structures.They neatly delineated the highlights of their life but never showcased flaws, insecurities, and secrets. Still, they never accepted that social media is unhealthy.The daughter recently posted a photo of an ice-cream cone. Holding up the cone was a disembodied hand. It didn't matter whether it was peppermint or strawberry, living in a false echo chamber curtailed her ...
A World of Memories
The market town bustled with people, someone bumped into me and I jumped out the way of someone else almost walking right into a man.“Watch it girl,” the small stout man, who I could only describe as frog-like, growled. “Sorry,” I exclaimed grasping my black pointed felt hat to my head as a cold wind blew through the cobbled street.“Over here,” Blake shouted from where he sat on a barrel in front of the book shop, his deep black fur shimmering purple in the late afternoon light. I hurried over and he jumped down as I pushed open the door, the little bell ringing above me. As soon as the door c...