Falling Forward_Already-Not Yet_Honest_A Murky Evocation
Catalog Guide:
Falling Forward
The sticky red liquid had pooled partly on its wrapper and partly on the counter leaving its stick lonely. The rest of the liquid had managed to drip off the counter and left a quarter-sized puddle on the floor. “Damn it!” Jenny sighed. “I don’t have time for this!”The loss of the cherry popsicle was not worth mourning; it wasn’t the ice cream she had desired anyway. Her beloved creamy, chocolaty goodness was too many points on her diet plan. Sure she could have eaten the recommended fourth of a cup serving size, but who has enough self-control for that? The look on Ethan’s face had she chose...
Already-Not Yet
Christians are stuck in the already-but not yet…Our future is secure, yet we still toil in this world.She opened her eyes and looked around the room. The light is all wrong and the room is, what is it? It’s like it’s pretending, like it’s staged. She saw her husband emerge from the bathroom. “Are you going in late today?” he said, with a strange look on his face. She wanted to leap from the bed and hug him tight, but something was keeping her from that. It was the tight and drawn look on his face and something was wrong with his light. The light coming from him was yellowed, somehow, dingy, wi...
Honest
Author’s note: This is a follow up to my short story At Home, submitted in December 2019、On Saturday morning, Haley took extra time in the shower. She shaved her legs and underarms, she used the vanilla scented soap that she knew Ben liked, she conditioned her hair. It had been months since she’d taken more than a quick five minute shower before getting back to Ava, their two-year-old daughter, but today was special. Today the three of them were going apple picking, and Haley had been looking forward to it all week. Being outside, with Ben, away from cell phones and TV and Ben’s work laptop, t...
A Murky Evocation
We all know what’s it like to feel after loving and losing someone. A concealed pain, buried deep inside the mind trying to emerge out, but only suppressed more because it elicits memories nobody wants to recall. But the worst of pain is felt when you lose yourself, having loved more than everything once. That’s how it was for Arnout. Walking down the sordid lane of Coober Alley, hiding his face with a lacerated and attenuated scarf which was hardly able to cover his face and his mushy breathing, wiping off the sweat with his rough and rugged palm, itching the nape and anxiously twitching and ...