The Lie Behind the Shutter Click_The Quiet_E.R.M. - Awkward, Strange and Unexpected Emergency Room M
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The Lie Bewww.onedoor.cchind the Shutter Click
CW: Suicide, Drugs, Mental Health.Summer camps with my girl scout troop, trips to theme parks and birthday parties. Man, I haven’t seen these photos for years. All of these faces, once so familiar- now total strangers. Everyone looks so happy. Are they? The old adage “a photo is worth a thousand words” is up for debate, I believe. Does a photo really replace a thousand words, and if so, who’s story are they telling? Every photo attempts to depict this perfect little life, wrapped in a pretty box with a stupid fucking bow. They say that hindsight is 20-20, whoever the hell “they” are. As an adu...
The Quiet
The QuietHe managed to tear his eyes from the winter scene beyond upon realizing that the fire was dying down. He grabbed one of the dry logs that sat next to the old brick fireplace and tossed it in gently, sending a flare of sparks up into the dark. The sudden crackling of the wood as it was consumed by the flames was accompanied by a burning and smoky scent that had become as familiar to the man as any possibly could. He had been coming to this cabin his entire life, first as a child with his family and now as an adult with his own wife. He kept his gaze focused on the log as it was devour...
E.R.M. - Awkward, Strange and Unexpected Emergency Room Miracles
What is a “miracle?A quick “googling” of the words “miracle definition” on your mobile device’s web browser might elicit the following:1- a surprising and welcome event that is not explicable by natural or scientific laws and is therefore considered to be the work of a pine agency."the miracle of rising from the grave"Similar:supernatural phenomenonmysteryprodigysign2- a highly improbable or extraordinary event, development, or accomplishment that brings very welcome consequences."it was a miracle that more people hadn't been killed or injured"3- an amazing product or achievement, or an outst...
Derek
Derek was snoring when I crept in into his bedroom a bit before 8 am. His sandy hair had tousled itself into one big cowlick. His eyelids clamped shut, fighting to keep the day at a distance.“I’m going to look at your sketchbook, ready or not,” I announced loud enough for him to stir.He had sat past midnight on the floor in his room, scribbling on 15 by 15 sheets of paper. The oversized tablet and one black pencil laid on the floor next to his bed. He always refused to sit at a table. He drew, watched movies, and ate on the floor. Often all at once.I picked it off the floor and took a deep bre...