Dear Diary_A Drowning at Calvin Lake_The Glass Reflection_What are the Chances?
Catalog Guide:
Dear Diary
May 15th Thursday 9:37 PM Dear Diary, Today was an awful day. It couldn’t have gone worse. I told Uriah that this marriage wasn’t working out. He tried to convince me otherwise but ended up being more pro-porce than me. He pointed out everything about me that bothered him, from my long working hours to my ‘obsessive need to clean’ to the fact that I still write in a diary like ‘a little angsty teenager’ when he was apparently ‘right here’ for me to talk to. I’ve never met anyone more annoyingly logical than Uriah. He always comes up with the most outrageous thoughts, with the worst justificat...
A Drowning at Calvin Lake
Trigger Warning: mentions of domestic abuse, alcowww.onedoor.ccholism, drowning.Ren shielded her eyes against the light glinting off the snow. She swept her gaze over her surroundings, scanning the untouched blanket of white disguising the terrain beneath it.She hadn’t expected such a loud shattering sound to ring out into the woods when it happened. The ice, hidden under the same layer of powder as the rest of the landscape, couldn’t have been more than a few inches thick. The lake below couldn’t have been less than fifteen feet deep.He should have noticed that the ground was too bare between where he stoo...
The Glass Reflection
The apartment building was old with cracked linoleum in the entryway. Rissa wrinkled her nose at the moldy smell in the elevator. It shook and rattled so much, she wished she’d lugged her two suitcases up the stairs instead. The elevator finally spit her out on the third floor, where she was greeted with paper thin carpet that looked original to the building.Rissa dragged her belongings to 304 and sighed. It had been a long day, and now this sticky, unfamiliar place would be home indefinitely.Sliding the key into the lock she wrestled with it a minute before the door finally swung open. The sm...
What are the Chances?
I have now concluded three possible outcomes from boarding this flight: the plane explodes right after liftoff, the plane crashes mid-flight and everybody onboard dies, or the plane lands in Beijing and I spend the next five days cooped up in a hotel room that probably has a pungent Artemisia smell. I would have pointed all of this out to Alisa, my best friend who also happens to be a news reporter, but she is currently haggling the price of a t-shirt with the old woman running the airport clothing store. I instead choose to pick at my crimson and lime-colored nails, which I paid $60 to get do...