Wondrous White Nothingness_Butterfly Effect_FACES OF WAR: A hero's story_FACING THE GHOSTLY WHIT
Catalog Guide:
Wondrous White Nothingness
Hours past and he no longer blinked in an attempt to refocus his eyes. He no longer moved in hopes to feel the wind resistance. The only similarity between putrid and pleasant scents was that they didn’t exist wherever he was. So he stopped breathing. White nothingness was all that he saw. He wondered how far the nothingness traveled and how many more dreams of nothingness it would take before the insanity would trickle into his conscious being. “A lot more,” he said aloud. “The silence isn’t so deafening anymore. Cathartic almost… But perhaps that’s the insanity speaking.” He laughed hysteric...
Butterfly Effect
No… This can’t be. This can’t be! Clock, I checked you twice before I went to bed last night. How could you betray me? We were only supposed to go forward one hour. One hour!Not over a month!My arms pinched sore, I stare at what my awake twenty/twenty vision and sober, neurotypical brain insist is true: I went to bed last night near the beginning of March and woke up at the end of April. The voice of some woman talk show host, the latest in a long line of inarguable proofs discovered on TV, the internet, and my dorm’s morningwww.onedoor.cc newsletter, drones on in the background of my life, overshadowed by ...
FACES OF WAR: A hero's story
A stone-cold killer lies in wait. The killer is camouflaged on a rooftop in the center of a war torn city. The morning sun beats mercilessly down upon him. The killer, however, is undaunted by the intense heat, by the biting insects, or by the discomfort that comes from staying perfectly still for so many hours. His TRAINED-EYE is determined. It carefully scans his quadrant for a target among hordes of potential enemies. Any one of them could be a hostile. Often times, you never knew friend from foe until it was too late. Frustration, brought on by the perilous nature of his current predicamen...
FACING THE GHOSTLY WHITE RHINOCEROS: A writer’s journey
There is a condition every writer, faced with a deadline, both fears and dreads. It is a circumstance so heinous and disabling that many writers forgo their craft altogether to pursue other art forms. What manner of insanity or hell could impose such gloom and doom? You may be asking. It is a simple term known to anyone who has every sought artist expression through pen and paper, err, word processor—writer’s block. Personally, I have never given writer’s block much thought, for I am seldom, if ever, at a loss for words. As I sit to write the concluding thoughts for my collection of works, ho...