The Greatest Dog in the World_A Locket_The Road from FrostCon_Taking Care
Catalog Guide:
The Greatest Dog in the World
Sometimes it takes meeting someone in need, before I can appreciate what I have. I learned one day that you can meet someone with more than enough, and that can work too. It was back when I got my first dog. Now I wouldn't call myself a cat person, but I did not think of myself as a dog person either. However, after my sister moved in with her asthmatic boyfriend, I got her dog, Connor, a beagle mainly, with some terrier mixed in. Connor was a poor excuse for a dog, scared of its own shadow, and had a weird habit of twisting around when it got nervous, always to the right, and would just keep ...
A Locket
(This short story features characters from 'Missing' and is a partial continuation of the plot) CONTENT WARNING: References to mental health, physical abuse, and substance abuse.Ryker stared at me from the couch as I raveled my scarf around my neck. After everything settled down with the cops months ago, he’d condemned himself to our place full-time. I wasn’t sure if he’d done if for his safety, or if he’d done it out of fear. No one knew where the man who’d taken him had gone off to. Though his disappearance hit all the major news outlets, questions remained unanswered.He’d given detectives a...
The Road from FrostCon
"Thanks again for taking me with you," Veronica said from the passenger seat. "Chuck swore he'd never set foot at another comic book convention."Elle stared into the snow swirling past the headlights like stars at light speed. "I wasn't about to let you miss the cast of Twenty-Sided Tales." She glanced in the rear view, though it was functionally useless when the backseat was piled floor-to-ceiling with Veronica's haul. "…Speaking of Chuckwww.onedoor.cc, how are you gonna explain all this stuff? I thought you guys were saving for a house.""We are." Veronica stared out the window at the dark, empty snow fiel...
Taking Care
Her withered hands curled around the frosty beer bottle looked to me like the cover of a rock album. One Last Drink with the Devil, it would be called, and filled with Led-Zeppelin-esque songs about death and alcoholism.Mrs. Chambers had her dry lips pursed as she studied my apartment. I took a reluctant look around as well, trying to see my place from her perspective. The trippy posters on the wall would tell her that I smoke weed. The secondhand everything probably says that I’m a hippy, or unemployed, or both. The admittedly excessive amount of handle bottles would suggest that I’m a lush, ...