The Memories We Leave_Hell?_A Time To Go_Not Worth It
Catalog Guide:
The Memories We Leave
"What exactly are we doing out here Dad?" Cass whined pitifully sleepy at her father as they stumbled along in the near dark. "You'll see", her father, Sam, had teased her not unkindly. In a swift motion he gathered the young Cass up in his arms with a grunt of effort."Trust me it'll be worth it." Cass laid her head sleeply on his shoulder. "Tell me when we get there." He chuckled as little snorts of slumber rose to his ears. She was not much of a morning person but she was going to love this; if he could get them there in time. He quickened his pace as much as the rocky terrain would allow ...
Hell?
I add another tally to the wall. There were so many I lost count or was too lazy to count them anymore. I’m trapped in this room and I have no idea why. It’s like this medieval jail cell but with a few upgrades. There is no dirt floor, instead a cold stone one, I have a window but it’s so small I can just see the few sun rays that peek through when the sun is setting or rising I have no idea but I know I’m not underground. I just add a tally for when it happens. Stone walls, A wooden door that is locked, nobody comes in and it has never opened. A wooden plank with a thin mattress, pillow, and ...
A Time To Go
In all the years had I come here, had I seen the sun rise so spectacularly like this. It’s as if the rays of golden light themselves would shine happiness on us.She was sitting beside me, holding me tight as we were high up in the sky, on the summit where we could see the land below us for miles and miles.“Don’t you ever get fed-up of coming up here?” Asked Rachelle.“Not really because this is the only place where I can find true meaning and enlightenment,” I replied. She gave me a little smile and then rested her head against my shoulders. I love it when the light hits her eyes, it’s like th...
Not Worth It
Trigger warning: Suicide, death Things to do before I leave: 1、 Hug my mother. Say I love you to her, even if I don’t mean it, because I won’t. She never loved me. She always loved her other children more than me. But she tried, I’m sure she tried to love me. It is my fault that I’m so unlovable. It’s my fault that I was always so moody and depressing, that talking to me was more of a chore than a pleasure. I didn’t deserve the same love that my siblings always got, I know that. But I wish I had gotten at least a fraction of it. It’s too late. If you’re reading this Mom, you know I’m being ...