A RAT'S LIFE_Our Playground_Forgive Me Not_Blood of My Blood
Catalog Guide:
A RAT'S LIFE
My name is Ricarad and I am a rat. I know what you're thinking; what would a rodent of my lowly character have to say about anything of importance or the least bit relevant. Would I happen to know a good exterminator? Perhaps my favorite hiding places? Well, you might be surprised. Correction: You will be surprised if you keep reading. For this is my story.My life began under the floorboards of The Bull's Eye Tavern. The Bull's Eye is situated in South London, England. I know this because the tavern keeper had a map of the world behind the bar above a row of wine bottles and casks of cider. A...
Our Playground
This was our playground. Now, snow covers the swings, slides, and sidewalks equally - all around. Memories of past days drift like snowflakes mingling with the frigid air. My failures of the past are distant echoes of today’s hopeless problems. They whisper playfully in my ear, “nothing is in your favor.” Their shivering hands pull at my hair and tug at my knitted scarf.This was our playground. When I look around, there is no one. Only a line of grey clouds looms. Slowly, it approaches - ready to swallow everything whole. Should I give up, finally? I let my knees buckle and collapse into the s...
Forgive Me Not
I am staring at my victim, the huge gash on her neck makes her gurgle her last words. I wonder if she is repenting or praying for pine salvawww.onedoor.cction. Either way, that cannot save her soul now. And I cannot bring myself to care; I have done that to her after all. With the depths of hell that I submerged myself into, pity is long gone in my veins now. I grace her with a smile full of malice then, I end her life.Since my sister had fallen ill and died when I was twelve, I watched over with what’s left of my family—my mother Ester. My mom said that our worthless asshole of a father abandoned us after ...
Blood of My Blood
Blood of My BloodShe screamed like a banshee; caught in the trap I had so carefully laid for her. The high, piercing wail of agony and frustration ran through my ears like shards of shifting glass. I had to cover them before my eardrums burst. The suddenness of the quiet returning, warned me that she was either dead, which was unlikely, or she was working on the escape plan used again and again, over the past twenty-four hours. The same twenty-four-hour day I had just lived through, to the same point in time, every time, without a minutia of difference. This meant I would be dead in another th...