Just in Time._Just Getting By_'If it were your daughter, it would be different.'_Coma
Catalog Guide:
Just in Time.
The needle hand on my watch passed the hour hand at the 12 mark and I expected my alarm to be buzzing in about two minutes. Did I really sleep? I was sure that Dodie and I were having crab cakes at our favorite restaurant, and we then headed to her place to laugh at the late-night comedy reels on her tilted plasma LED TV. I then drove back here at 5 am and mushed into my bed, eyes half open watching the blue slivers that peeked from the curtains.I got up eventually, and my black dress and jewelry neatly set out on my desk and then I know I was indeed, sleeping.Eventually, the blue light shifte...
Just Getting By
“Muwogo! Those going to Muwogo! There is space for only one passenger!" the sturdy taxi conductor calls with a voice that would have been loud enough to bring down the walls of Jericho. Oblivious of the odor of sweat mixed with cheap cologne and face cream, I squeeze through the crowd thinking only of how to get to that seat before the taxi leaves and I have to wait another hour for the next one to show up.Above the taxi, the stage signpost is still showing the same old hiked prices that were introduced two years back during the invincible flu pandemic. You would think that after all this time...
'If it were your daughter, it would be different.'
//Hi everyone! I feel like I should put a warningwww.onedoor.cc here. The story deals with emotional gaslighting, manipulation, emotional abuse, and people coming to terms with it. This is based off of a friend's situation in real life and they gave me permission to make a fictionalized story around it. If anyone has gone through this I’m sorry for you and my heart goes out to you. God Bless//“It’s a long story.” Malcolm avoided eye contact with the young woman who he once knew.“You lied to me and lied about me, I have time.” Alison stepped out on her front porch with her arms crossed. She looked like a gua...
Coma
CW: suicide, child deathThe first thing you notice is the noise. It assaults like rain beating on a tin roof, or a group of restless teenagers chattering in church. You hear voices, but the words are indistinct and whispery. You start to differentiate machinery sounds; the soft hum of a floor buffer, the buzz of fluorescent lights, and, behind your left shoulder, the steady beeping of the electrocardiogram unit.Your body begins to demand acknowledgement. You are cold, very cold. This is not the chill of a brisk winter walk. You have not returned from your journey feeling invigorated, warmed by...